Suspect Oceans
by Yeto
Summary: An incident with a drunk driver lands Jenna Rawson in a coma and Mick and Gina flying across the ocean under a little white lie... which rather quickly snowballs out of control. Ch29 will be soon, sorry guys! I am horrible at updating regularly I know.
1. In Which Bad News is Obtained

Hello CMSB fans! As promised, here is my next story. This one is a little bit sadder than Suspect Covers but will be multi-chapter like it. They are unrelated though. Hopefully the humor will still be present! Funny is what I like to write best, but not flat-out comedies.

**Disclaimer**: not mine (yet...)

As always I love to hear your thoughts.. criticism and your feelings on how the story is going are welcome. Please leave a review if you could, I'll be updating this fairly regularly (I hope!) until it's done.. whenever that may be! Look forward to many more chapters of your favorite matchingly-dressed profiler couple!

Mick/Gina with some focus on the rest of the team but no shipping between Prophet/Beth/Cooper/Garcia or anything.

* * *

><p>On an unusually slow day, Beth Griffith stormed in to the Red Cell team's headquarters, unceremoniously dropping her bags onto her desk and plopping into the chair.<p>

The three younger members of the team looked at her, smirking. It was rather obvious she was still partially hung over, though Cooper pretended not to notice, for all the times Mick had shown up glassy-eyed and half unconscious, rambling on about some girl he debatably did or did not sleep with the prior night.

"What?" Beth finally spat out, after noticing her fellow profilers watching her.

"Rough night, eh?" the Brit tossed out, smile widening as Prophet and Gina laughed.

"Yeah, with your mo- oh," the brunette had begun, before realizing a 'your mom' joke directed at Mick was entirely in bad taste.

He stiffened, and seemed ready to lash out at her, but then Mick relaxed and said instead, "Didn't know you were into necrophilia. That why you're on the run?"

"She's probably a serial graverobber," Gina agreed, giggling as Beth threw her phone at Mick. It hit him square in the chest, but she hadn't thrown it very hard so it dropped down harmlessly. He feigned being wounded, clutching at his heart and twitching in the chair.

"Looks like Gina's CPR training will be useful after all. Help the man out," Prophet teased, nudging Gina's chair closer to Mick's with his foot.

"Faking death just to get a hot chick's mouth on yours is _so_ 1993," Beth scowled, rolling her eyes and pulling her computer out.

"I loved _The Sandlot_!" the blonde woman excitedly cried, clasping her hands together.

Mick froze from pretending he was dying to stare at her, "Bloody what is a sandlot?"

Prophet spat his water out.

"You've never seen _The Sandlot_? It's only one of the best movies ever! I must've watched it a million times at sleepovers," Gina explained, eyes wide in disbelief.

"Even I've seen it once. England really is a crooked and depraved nation," Beth sighed, slumping into her chair to stare pitifully at the Brit.

"They played baseball, man. The Beast was this vicious dog and he ate hundreds of people, bones and all. Hey I met the girl who played Wendy one time, man she was hot," Prophet remarked, eyes glazing over as he leaned back to recollect on the fateful meeting.

"Probably why I've never seen it. We didn't care much for baseball back in Wales, mates," Mick said, shrugging as he tossed Beth's phone back to her.

"Team movie night. Two days from now. Save the date. Don't make plans. Unless we're on a case, then we'll have to put it off," Cooper ordered, taking out his own phone to make a calendar entry.

"Are we seriously going to watch _The Sandlot_?" Beth groaned, wondering if perhaps they weren't just a bit too old to be watching it.

"Absolutely! I have it on VHS, this will be so fun!" Gina cheered, bouncing in her chair as Prophet laughed and Beth sighed.

"Do we have a case? Or something I can be doing away from these three?" Beth asked after a few minutes, looking quite bored with the day already.

"Nah, serial killers are taking a break for the week. Must be some kinda Facebook event," Cooper joked, glancing once again at the empty case file folder, "Catch up on paperwork I guess. If you don't have anything to do, head out. If something comes up I'll call everyone in. Take some free time while we can."

"Today is a good day to be all caught up," Beth firmly stated, standing up quickly and placing her computer back into her bag.

"Fugitive," Prophet coughed under his breath, Mick and Gina snickering in agreement.

"Yeah, yeah. I prefer organized and therefore _out of here_," she daintily snarked back, dangling her car keys in front of her as she walked out the door.

"I've only got a couple files. Work for an hour then meet for lunch?" Mick suggested, pulling out his folder of papers to be dealt with.

"Sounds good," Gina agreed, followed by Prophet's, "I'm in." Cooper declined, saying he had a meeting with Fickler in 45 minutes.

Around half an hour after, Mick staring at the last few sheets of paper in boredom, his phone began ringing. He glanced at the other two profilers, who shook their heads, and Cooper was already on the phone.

He walked out of the office and through the gym to the street before answering. It was an English number, he knew that from the 1- prefix and the area code. But it wasn't his sister's and he didn't recognize it as anyone he'd known from Interpol and all his friends were in as named contacts.

"Hello?" he greeted, waiting for an explanation.

"Mick Rawson, brother of Jenna Rawson?" a motherly voice replied, gushing sympathy and tenderness. He froze, paling. He'd never heard this woman before, but if she was calling about Jenna, and it wasn't Jenna calling, it couldn't be good.

"Yes, that's me," Mick confirmed, hoping his voice was steady.

"I'm Nurse Lars," she started, before his loud 'WHAT' cut her off. She tried again, "Nurse Lars. I'm sorry to inform you but your sister has been in an accident. She just came out of surgery and is alive, but we have her in a medically induced coma."

Mick was pretty sure his heart stopped. His sister was in an accident severe enough to require surgery and a coma? What had happened to her? She was a daredevil but not a risk taker, enough that she could wind up dead. They both found themselves in dangerous situations often enough but took care to make it out just fine, for the other's sake.

"How… what… are you serious?"

"I am, I'm sorry. She was crossing the street with her friends when a drunk driver hit her. It broke her phone, so it took us a while to get your contact information. She was roughed up pretty bad from the impact but we have her stable now."

"God…"

"I understand you're in America? I don't know if you'll want to fly over to check on her or if you need us to call you about updates on her condition but…"

"I'm flying. Today, the next flight possible, how could this happen to her…"

"I'm sorry. She's at St Mary's Hospital, check in with the front desk when you get here, she won't be transferred out," and with that, the nurse hung up, leaving Mick to stand alone outside the gym, short on breath and wondering just how his little sister wound up in a coma.

Finally he turned and went back in, sitting down at his laptop without a word and immediately booking a flight. Unfortunately, the nearest airport had all flights to London completely overbooked until the next day, and he didn't have the energy to call them and argue for a spot.

Cooper rose to leave soon after, and Mick followed him out hurriedly, not bothering to acknowledge the other two agents.

"Coop, I have to go to England. Tomorrow," he stated, hands clutching his phone in front of him too hard to look normal.

"Mick, what happened? Take as long as you need but keep me in the loop."

"Jenna was hit by a drunk driver, she's in a coma. I need to be there with her."

"I'm sorry man. You're on leave until she wakes up, don't worry about the job. We'll cover for you, this is more important. I'll keep her in my prayers."

"Thanks Coop."

The senior agent opened his car door and got in, giving the Brit a comforting pat on the shoulder. He slowly drove off, watching Mick nearly walk into the wall trying to go back in through the door.

Cooper made a mental note to call Gina later.

* * *

><p>When Gina's phone rang, she was expecting it to be one of her friends calling her back about their plans for the night. She was not anticipating Cooper's number, and sighed, knowing a pressing case had come up and they'd be leaving within the hour.<p>

"Hey Coop, what creep is at this time?" she answered, only to be floored by what Cooper actually had to say.

"I'm not calling about a case. Not exactly. Jenna's in a coma, drunk driver hit her. Mick's leaving tomorrow for England to be with her but he's a wreck. I don't think it's good for him to be alone. I trust you to be professional and keep him under control while helping him deal with this. I'd go with him but, Fickler doesn't agree. He opens up to you more than Prophet and Beth. I want you to fly over with him and stay until Jenna's alright," Coop explained.

"Oh my… are you serious? That's why he backed out of lunch. Poor Mick. Do you think he'll want me come along?"

"He might not but he needs someone with him. I'll tell him you're going and to get you on that flight, no questions."

"Alright, see you once Jenna's back on her feet."

* * *

><p>"What do you mean, Gina's coming with me and I don't have a say?" Mick grumbled in shock over the phone, Cooper's even breathing on the other line.<p>

"Hey, Mick, everyone needs a friend. You walked into a wall today, she's just gonna make sure your driving's safe," Coop firmly said, making it clear the issue was closed.

"I'd have preferred if you let me accept to take her instead of saying this is how it is," the Brit huffed.

"Sorry man, but sometimes you just need to be told what's happening. Get her onto your plane. Take care, Mick."

"Glad you think I require a caretaker, mate."

"Just looking out for you. She's there for emotional support. I know how much you care about Jenna, this is impacting you. Don't push Gina away, okay?"

"Gotcha."

Cooper hung up, leaving Mick to flop back onto his bed and sigh. He hadn't been anticipating going with anyone; now he wouldn't be alone with his thoughts while he waited for his sister to wake up.

This could turn out well, he figured. Gina was nice and, of the profilers, the most sympathetic and comforting. It was easy to see why Coop had sent her and not Beth or even Prophet. He wasn't sure he could handle any extended period of time alone with Beth and her sarcasm, as amusing as she was to be around. Prophet would be a good drinking buddy but he wasn't the team's bleeding heart by any stretch.

Who knows, he might be able to persuade her to have a little comfort sex. She was without a doubt the most attractive of his coworkers.

He picked his phone back up to call the airline and get her a seat.

"I'm sorry sir, there are no two open seats next to each other," he was informed by a rather rude representative.

"Well move someone, I want her next to me," Mick ordered, as though it was the most obvious solution in the world.

"I can't just move people, they already have assigned seats."

"Reassign them."

"Sir you don't seem to be understanding me…"

"No, _you_ aren't understanding me. I am telling you to book the seat next to me for Gina LaSalle on my flight. That really cannot be as difficult as you're making it out to be."

"Sir the only way we could move a passenger is if the flier you're trying to add is family."

Mick paused for a moment, debating his options. The first thing that came to mind was to say Gina was his wife and simply chose to keep her own name. It was fairly unlikely this obnoxious rep would bother to confirm whether they were actually married or not, since she obviously just wanted him off the phone.

"Did I forget to mention she's my wife?"

"Why wasn't she already flying with you?"

"Other plans that fell through, now stop being so bloody difficult and give her the bloody seat."

"Sir are you lying to me?"

"Do you want me to arrest you for arguing with an FBI agent?"

"Sir you can't threaten me."

"Book the bloody ticket."

"Gina LaSalle, seat 16E, confirmed. Please print your ticket online."

"Thank you, absolute _pleasure_ doing business with you."

"Dick," he was pretty sure the woman muttered as he hung up the phone, but it didn't matter. Beth texted him soon after, saying she'd heard he was flying out and asked if he needed a ride to the airport. Confirming he'd appreciate her driving, he called up the blonde profiler.

"Mick? Is everything alright?" she quickly asked, picking up after only one ring.

"Excluding the bloody stubborn airline broad I just argued with, and that my sister's lying in a hospital bed in a coma across the ocean, yeah things aren't too bad."

"I'm sorry…"

"Nah, whatever. Be ready for Beth to pick us up at 7. The plane leaves at 9:30. I printed your ticket. Oh, and uh, love, if they ask, our anniversary is April 1."

"Anniversary? Like when we first met or…?"

"Wedding."

"But we aren't married…"

"Just… lie and say we are. I had to tell that bimbo we were married to get you next to me. Just go with it and hope nobody really bothers to ask."

"You know you'll need fake rings. I have a few plain bands in yellow gold, white gold, silver…"

"Gold. I've got some dumb ring or other lying around here. I'll uh… go buy some diamond or something tonight."

"No, just stay there. I'll tell Beth to pick me up early and we'll get one. Don't worry about going out yourself."

"Love I really must insist on paying for it…"

"You can pay me back, Mick, just take it easy. You don't need to go ring shopping for our fake plane marriage with Jenna like this."

"Alright, thanks doll. Can't say I really was looking forward to getting prodded for all the details of my proposal and girlfriend by a saleslady. See you tomorrow then, eh?"

"See you then, _love_, and go to sleep. You sound like crap," Gina laughed before hanging up, leaving Mick with his own thoughts and an almost empty bottle of beer.

Another swig and the bottle was dropped to the floor as he closed his eyes and tried to sink as far into the mattress and out of the real world as possible.

* * *

><p>I would love your reviews as always! Just click that button right down there and type some stuff (:<p> 


	2. In Which Beth Says Something Nice

Hello all my fantastic readers! Second chapter is here for you (: I have a lot of places in mind for this story to go.. most of them will be comically unfortunate circumstances. This is mainly a comedy with some tender moments.. since Jenna IS in the hospital in a coma. Most of it makes a fair bit of fun of British people.. no offense meant to British people but you guys would be less funny if you learned how to spell 'theater' and 'neighbor' right lol.

Lover of Reid, perhaps it has to do with how I was raised but if there ain't no diamond (well I guess it could be another sort of gemstone but diamonds are THE engagement stone) there ain't no 'yes'. I guess I just wrote it in thinking if there's no engagement ring it's probably just a purity ring as opposed to a wedding ring. And the ring is going to be playing a part in the future.. it'll provide some good dramedy!

As always, reviews are loved! Just click that button down there to leave a review and write some comments. If you need clarification or think something is amiss, let me know. I always love your thoughts so please leave a review, and thank you for reading!

**Disclaimer**: not mine.

* * *

><p>Gina LaSalle rolled her suitcase out of the elevator, cheerfully walking through her apartment's ground floor lobby.<p>

"Off on another case?" one of her neighbors called out, escorting her children outside as well to send them off on the bus.

"Not exactly, but I will be gone for a while," Gina shrugged, waving goodbye to the two kids circling their mother in a chase.

She exited the wide glass doors to see Beth, bored and texting someone, sitting in her car. The blonde walked up and opened the passenger door, startling the brunette who jumped and nearly smacked her head on the top of the car.

Or would have, if she wasn't too short to ever reach the roof.

"Piss on a stick Gina! Warn me before you come creeping up to my car," Beth scowled, watching her fellow profiler load the suitcase into the small trunk.

"Sorry Beth," the blonde giggled, hopping into the front seat opposite Beth.

The shorter woman drove off, heading for the nearest mall that would be open at 6:30 in the morning, but kept her right eye trained on Gina, "Why are you so… happy? And why are we making an unnecessary trip to the mall forcing me to wake up even earlier than I should be?"

"You'll see!"

This did not satisfy Beth in the slightest, and she began mulling over the circumstances in her head. Finally one occurred to her that seemed oddly plausible, however sick, "Are you two secretly married and using his brain-damaged sister as a scapegoat to go on some never ending honeymoon? Because I have said and done a lot of slimy, low things in my day, but faking a potentially fatal car accident just to go screw like rabbits is below even me…"

"I'm pretty sure his sister is really in a coma. If this was some Interpol ruse to get Mick in London, he wouldn't have let me come, and if they intentionally hurt his sister, I'll personally leave each jerkoff involved with a bullet… in the nuts."

"…But you don't deny being secretly married."

"Well…"

Beth's eyes bulged, nearly shooting out of their sockets, as she slammed on the breaks before she ran a red light. Her face, jaw slack and hanging open, nostrils flared and eyes wide as saucers, turned from the road to the profiler in her passenger seat.

Gina laughed girlishly at how confused Beth was, "We're not really. But they wouldn't give me a seat by Mick unless he said we were married. So he did. But we're not even dating. We're going to buy a ring. To look convincing."

Beth did not look convinced in the slightest.

"Why would you think we were secretly married in the first place?" Gina asked, clueless to how blatant the mutual attraction between her and Mick was.

"Oh, I don't know, maybe because you always try and pair off with him. You look like you walked out of Victoria Beckham's closet at the same time, or at least got dressed together. Sometimes in the dark. He babbles on about some fictional girl he fictionally spent the night with when, in reality, he was factually spending the night with his hand, a sock and your picture. I would've been shocked if you were that obvious while actually being involved but the sexual tension is suffocating me," Beth explained as though she was telling her how to add two and two.

"You're just making that all up."

"Jesus look at your closets. They're identical. If I checked your phones I'd bet you have the most texts from each other. And now you're telling airline officials you're married to get onto a plane? Not even to get on, just sit next to each other and flirt, making the poor saps stuck sitting around you nauseous, as if the turbulence wasn't already doing that."

Gina blankly stared.

Beth was really quite content to be sending the agents off to a foreign country, alone, where they could resolve their attraction before it became fatal… for her.

* * *

><p>"We're here to find a ring," Gina announced, rather loudly for Beth's tastes, considering all the awkward stares that were promptly directed their way.<p>

"That's wonderful, I'm so glad couples like you…" the salesman closest to them began, walking up to introduce himself.

"It's not for us. We're not together. I don't sleep with women," the blonde profiler spluttered when she realized he was under the impression she and Beth were getting engaged.

"She's screwing this Brit we work with and he wants the tax cuts," Beth deadpanned, louder than Gina had originally, to clarify for everyone around. She didn't really care in the slightest what people thought of her, but, for her own sanity's sake she wanted to confirm they were just friends.

Gina was about to say she and Mick had never had sex and were just friends, but a well-timed nudge from the brunette reminded her to just go with it.

The salesman uncomfortably attempted to try introducing himself again, not quite sure if the two women before him were being serious, drunk, or just two rich bimbos having a laugh at his expense.

"I like that one," Gina cheerily pointed, indicating a large diamond sitting pretty on a gold band. Truth be told she had just wanted to break up the uneasy silence that followed the introductions and hadn't actually looked at where her finger was going.

Beth's eyes went wide when she saw the price.

"You do realize that thing is a hundred thousand dollars…" the brunette whispered harshly in Gina's ear, but it went unheard.

Diamonds are a girl's best friend, and Gina was certainly a girl. Her eyes sparkled, reflecting the diamond's rainbow facets as a small spotlight shone upon it to highlight the engagement rings in the display case.

"A. Hundred. Thousand. Dollars," Beth repeated, a bit louder this time, but it still did not phase Gina's unbreakable stare. "This is nuts. Go call your _boyfriend_ and see if he'll fork over the cash."

Several minutes later, Gina's transfixion with the diamond ceased long enough for her to process what Beth had suggested and pull her phone out. The Brit would likely be awake by this hour, finalizing his packing and making sure his apartment was in order.

She dialed him with ease, waiting impatiently for him to answer.

"Mick baby, I found one," she cried happily, and Beth just rolled her eyes as the Brit answered.

"It's only a hundred thousand," Gina shrugged in response, eliciting a very loud shriek from the other side of the phone and a string of curse words Beth was rather glad no children were around to hear.

"Pl_ease_, baby?"

Beth could hear the silence as Mick considered, before pointing out his sister was lying in a coma and this was all a fake. They discussed it for a few more moments, and the shorter woman caught hushed phrases of 'can't you find something cheaper' and 'I'll be your best friend forever' before a consensus was reached.

The blonde's face lit up as he apparently replied yes. If the brunette didn't know better she'd have thought they were actually getting engaged over the phone. Gina rushed back to the salesman, pulling her credit card out.

He sighed and went to grab the ring.

* * *

><p>As Mick climbed into the back seat of Beth's car, Gina turned excitedly to show him the ring now wrapped around her finger.<p>

"So how exactly did the future Mrs. Rawson convince you to buy a ring for your fake marriage worth more than your apartments combined?" Beth queried, driving off once the door was closed for the airport.

"Eh, I have a few favors over at Interpol. Some monetary favors. They'll let me break even. I can always resell it after. Or give it to my sister."

The two women were silent.

"Not as an engagement present you twats! As a get well soon gift. Because it looks nice. I'm British, we have crooked, rotten teeth not incestuous sex! Unless you're royalty…"

"Yeah," Beth finally uttered, dragging the syllables out. She was really questioning her mental status for ever offering to drive the two around, in DC traffic, to the airport.

The Brit turned his gaze to Gina, "I am still not sure how you managed to convince me to spend a hundred thousand on a ring."

"Took advantage of his emotional trauma," Beth cut in.

"I would never! I just told him it was to die for. And he said he could get his Interpol friends to pay for it. Isn't it gorgeous? Thank you again, Mick, you're the best," the blonde gushed, looking at him in the back seat and flashing a wide smile.

Mick smiled back, but it soon faded when he remembered his sister was in the hospital, and he glumly sunk back into the seat. Beth noticed the awkward silence that had ensued between her two passengers, and tried to cheer them back up, "So with you two gone, Cooper was unfortunately forced to call off Team Movie Night and now I'm safe from The Beast for another week or two."

"Too bad, B. Luckily for us I downloaded it onto my laptop so we can watch it on the plane, and at the hotel, and with your sister!" Gina grinned, clasping her hands and nearly stabbing her right finger on the ring. Quickly pulling her hands apart and shaking the jabbed hand she frowned.

"Takes some getting used to, eh?" Mick teased.

"Do you have personal experience with that?" Beth shot back, rolling her eyes as she missed yet another light due to the terribly slow driver in front of her.

"No, mate, I don't sit about wearing obtrusively large gemstones on my fingers."

"I believe you."

"You don't sound convinced."

"Hey, hey, don't project your own insecurities onto me."

"I am _not_ insecure…"

"Oh look, we're here," Gina butted in, before her fellow profilers could continue on. Something that sounded a lot like 'finally' was muttered from the driver's seat, though the two passengers declined to humor her further.

The pair got out and grabbed their luggage, pausing on the expansive sidewalk to say their farewells.

Beth's face took on a tender look, though strained at having to be so kind, before she called out, "Don't do anything stupid. You two are like preteens but on the scale of obnoxious and pigheaded teammates you rank pretty low. We could do worse. Mick, take care of your sister. Gina, take care of Mick."

"I'm glad everyone thinks I need a babysitter," Mick grumbled, but he smiled at Beth nonetheless.

"If you two run into any trouble, some moron Interpol agents like that one who kept calling me ten times a day for a week after you called her, give me a call and I'll be over there yesterday," Beth paused, feeling rather awkward saying something that implied she cared for her younger team members, before continuing, "But if you two elope I never want to know."

The two agents laughed before waving a final farewell and heading for the first check in.

"Now, hopefully they won't ask about this supposed marriage I told the dumb broad on the phone about. If they do, just uh, say you liked your own last name better," Mick leaned over to instruct his blonde traveling companion, who nodded her head.

The airline official at the counter for their plane eyed them suspiciously when reviewing their passports, and narrowed his eyes at the enormous diamond on Gina's finger, but when he saw they were FBI he let them pass without any questions. The duo sighed in relief, heading towards security and hoping they could slip through quick enough.

Being FBI had its perks: they usually weren't questioned much or stopped. Both were white and looked harmless enough, so upon seeing their government-employed status airline officials generally sent them through.

The security checker was apparently having a bad day, though, and the family of 7 in front of them whose children kept shouting out the wrong birthdays certainly wasn't improving her mood. The disgruntled woman eyed the two suspiciously, almost glaring at the two profilers.

"Haven't I seen you in jail?" she groused, pursing her lips with a drawn-out puckering sound, as she stared straight at Mick.

"Nope," he curtly replied, folding his arms and checking his watch.

"Must've been your dope brother. Ain't you been on a milk carton?" the security guard accused, slowly turning her lopsided gaze to Gina, her lazy eye drooping to the side.

Gina was rather shocked by the question, seeing as nobody in her immediate family had ever been kidnapped, and responded with a slightly confused 'no'.

"Are you really FBI? Cuz honey, you could do better than this buck toothed-"

"Can we go on to the x-rays without you nagging or am I going to have to speak with your superior?" Mick cut in, glaring at the woman and puffing out his chest to look more threatening.

"Was that a _threat_ against a TSA official?"

"I have the director of the FBI on speed dial."

The terribly bored and grumpy woman paused, considering this. After several agonizing minutes of watching her one good eye rotate in its socket, she finally seemed to conclude the director of the FBI would indeed outrank her superior in a confrontation of the government bigwigs, and beckoned for the profilers to pass.

"Nasty British chompers…" she muttered, thinking the duo was out of hearing range. Mick whirled around, ready to start something in the middle of the airport, but Gina grabbed his arm and dragged him to place his carry-ons into a bin for checking.

"_This_ is why Cooper sent me with you," she pointed out, smiling so he knew she was teasing and wouldn't get upset.

He huffed regardless.


	3. In Which It's the End of the World

Time for another update! Just an FYI I have a camp I'm helping at next week so there will be no update Mon-Fri of next week.. I'll try to post another for you guys Sunday night! I am totally not the best at regularly updating fics and I know I'm such a loser for it lol.

My reviewers wondering about this mysterious $100,000 ring.. yeah it's a pricy little diamond but it's not SUPER DUPER expensive to me like million dollar diamonds I've seen while in jewelry stores with my mom.. maybe I'm just living in a dream world LOL. I promise though, this ring and its hefty price tag will be playing a role in some ill-fated hilarity later in the story.

Bit of a racy scene in the middle of this.. ;)

**Disclaimer**: herp derp show's still not on the fall schedule and still not mine.

As always, thanks to everyone for reading! And thank you to my reviewers (especially my number one fan, anti-roachkardo-individual) for leaving your thoughts! I love reading each review so please keep leaving them with your thoughts.. and I'll stop having Mick drop ridiculous sums of money LOL but you guys will like all the trouble the ring causes!

* * *

><p>Gina looked around the airport terminal, at the would-be passengers angrily shifting in their seats. The plane before theirs had been delayed, however the international flight the profilers were taking had arrived and proceeded to the gate before the previous plane could, requiring the busy airport to frantically try and redirect it to a different gate.<p>

Which, of course, on a busy traveling day with planes in and out like businessmen at a brothel, was a fair bit tricky to manage.

She glanced at her partner, who was blankly fixated on an apparently-fascinating corner of the ceiling, mind an ocean away.

It wouldn't do to have him zone out like this, retreating into his head to wallow in his own misery, playing out all the ill-fated scenarios his sister could encounter. So she took a few more moments to quickly profile certain people in the crowd who kept checking the time, eyes darting from the glowing screens of their cell phones to the attendants at the gate, working to get the flight to London underway.

One knew her husband wasn't the father of the small toddler pounding against her leg, but the husband next to her wasn't aware of that. Another lady sat next to a man who kept fiddling with his back pocket, rotating a small box nervously, obviously intending to propose overseas. There was a group of men with yellowed teeth and large class rings, Oxford graduates, she assumed, who kept laughing obnoxiously at a magazine she was fairly certain was not intended for all ages.

An uncertain student, looking fresh out of high school and likely an exchange student for the semester, fidgeted with her purse while reading a textbook, from what Gina could see of the diagrams it was a science of some sort. Across from her was an elderly couple who had too much money and too little love.

That was enough, she figured, to start with. While Mick hunted for the people she profiled she could always look at more angry travelers.

The blonde nudged the man next to her gently, snapping him out of his daze immediately. It took him a bit longer to react and turn to look at her, an eyebrow raised.

"Let's play I Spy. I'll give you the profile of someone and you tell me who it is," she grinned, gesturing to the people sitting in front of them as the eligible targets.

He rolled his eyes, looking ready to turn her down and go back to moping, but a well-timed pout before he could announce his disinterest had him saying, "Alright, love. If you think I need practice."

"Practice makes perfect," she quoted back, however cliché it may be. Mick gave a weak chuckle and told her to continue.

"Porn addict," she began as his eyes bulged, clearly not expecting such an upfront clue, before she shushed him and continued, "Went to a notable school but couldn't do anything with the degree. He's been working at menial labor jobs he thinks are below him, but seeing as he can't get hired into anything better, he suffers through it. His addiction makes him short on cash and his friends paid for his trip."

Mick took a moment to scan the room, apparently for the first time, as it took him a while to get a bearing on their fellow travelers. He must have really been taking this hard, she realized, to not have surveyed their surroundings. Whenever they were paired up on a case, he always went before her, he always was looking around and aware. It was a protector instinct, probably from his youth watching out for his sister; snipers were trained to be conscious of their environment but he looked different scoping out the place when he was with Cooper or Prophet than her or Beth.

"Group of chaps from my homeland, 11 o'clock, talking loudly. Holding a magazine, looks like Playboy from the cover but it's a foreign knockoff with racier pictures of Middle Eastern women. The man holding the magazine is the ringleader, the head of the group, they'd be willing to pay for him," Mick paused, considering carefully, "But he's got a job as a doctor. The man next to him, on his right, is the one who supplied the magazine because he tenses whenever anyone else touches it, as though they could rip his possession and damage the fantasy. He's on the right because he's the leader's right hand man, and the head bossed the others into paying for his financially troubled lapdog."

Gina smiled and nodded, "That's him. Didn't take you long, but I think 'his friends' and 'porn' were a pretty good hint. Let's go to something harder."

"I don't get to ask you?"

"You can, once I give you a couple so we don't overlap. Now, he's oblivious. Deeply in love, but she doesn't feel the same. And she feels terrible because of it, because he's a nice guy, but that's about all."

His eyes narrowed, as though he was suspicious she was referring to them, but when she gave him her 'you idiot' look, he looked back out at the crowd.

"Couple with the toddler in yellow. Child isn't his and she knows it but she can't bring herself to tell him. He was sweet and tender when they first met, and still is, but he doesn't spark any desire anymore. Too boring. Unlike me," Mick concluded with a wink, edging closer to Gina's seat.

"Now boarding Flight 455, Washington, DC to London, first class," boomed over the loudspeaker, signifying the quick conclusion of their game. They weren't taking first class but it was only a matter of time before they would be boarding.

A loud cry of disapproval sounded from the impatient travelers of the delayed flight, who grumbled amongst themselves in dismay that another plane was going before them.

"Alright, love, I got one. Handsome, dashing, rugged, slightly mysterious, suffered great personal tragedy but carries on, has the attention of several lovely ladies in the room who only wish they could be sitting next to him, and the unwavering focus of the one who is."

Gina quickly glanced out at the crowd, which was beginning to stir, scanning male faces, before freezing. She turned back to the Brit.

"Seriously?"

"Very good, doll," he smirked, puffing his chest out a bit to make his already-tight shirt stretch more. She frowned, but before she could retort the boarding call for their section rang out, and the two profilers stood up.

* * *

><p>The plane lurched and Mick jolted awake. He had passed out somewhere above the Atlantic fairly shortly into the flight and a quick glance out the window confirmed they were still above the Atlantic, though a couple hours along.<p>

He looked over to check on his partner, finding her sleeping soundly leaning towards him. Which meant her shirt's neck faced him. And her position caused it to gap. Allowing him a very generous view.

Which caused him to notice a not-so-little visitor that had… sprung up.

Surveying the dimly-lit interior, he noticed almost everyone was either asleep or engrossed with an in-flight movie, and the stewards were gathered at the back of the plane in boredom.

Mick nudged the blonde awake and put on his best 'pity me' face. She quickly snapped into sympathy mode, reaching out to stroke his cheek.

"Mick? What's wrong, are you having trouble sleeping?" she whispered tenderly.

"I need… to take my mind off this. Front-right bathroom, you go first I'll follow in two minutes."

"Are… you serious?"

"Please, love…" he simpered, blinking his eyes so they would water. Gina nodded and stood up, walking forward to the bathroom and entering.

The Brit waited, wishing time would go by faster, until he could finally trace her footsteps up the aisle. He slid the handle and quickly slipped inside before anyone could notice, eyebrows skyrocketing when he saw his coworker had already removed her outer clothing, leaving her in only a rather scandalous, lacy set of lingerie.

Mick rushed to her and kissed her, tossing off his own clothes in a rush. He kept his mouth over Gina's to muffle her moans as things continued to progress…

…Until an angry stewardess was outside, yelling something. He could barely make out what it was…

* * *

><p>"Please fasten your seatbelts in preparation for landing," echoed in the plane, the lights already back to full strength. Mick twitched as he woke up, though Gina didn't notice.<p>

He took his surroundings in, realizing he was still in his seat, and the blonde was next to him, entirely engrossed in playing Angry Birds… on his phone. Land was barely visible on the horizon out the window as the Atlantic began to lighten, evidence its depth was decreasing.

It had been a dream. They hadn't even landed in England and he was already entertaining dreamscapes filled with comfort sex. Mick rolled his eyes before elbowing Gina.

He raised an eyebrow as she shrugged, dropping the phone into his hand with a beat-this-level-for-me sniff and looking up at the now-lit seatbelt sign. Fortunately, she had still been wearing hers.

Mick shut the phone off for the descent, promising he'd beat the level at a more opportune time.

"You've been asleep for hours. I guess sleeping is your way of coping," Gina suddenly said, after a few moments of silence as the jet began its final stretch.

A slight war raged in his head. On the one hand, he didn't like to talk about his family, though he'd certainly told her about them on several occasions before, but on the other, he wasn't supposed to push her away. Finally he spoke, "After my parents died I used to pretend if I slept long enough I'd wake up somewhere else, where they were still alive. Jenna… Jenna thought they were just asleep, and someday they'd come out of it and things would be normal. She was terrified of sleeping because she was convinced she'd fall into a deep sleep like them and leave me alone."

"When I was young I had little figurines, a princess, her white knight, his trusty horse and a dragon. I used to pretend my sister was the dragon, coming to get me, and our dad was the knight, and he'd rescue me. But he never did. You know, that probably wasn't the best story to tell you but it was the first silly make-believe memory that came to mind."

"Still looking for that white knight?" he grinned, but the smile didn't quite reach his eyes.

"I figured out we're our own knights a while back. Mick, she's going to be fine, alright? Everyone thinks tragedies like this only happen to other people, but I know a secret. Only deaths happen to someone else," she winked, smiling sympathetically. He leaned in his seat, closer, as if to hold her, but the plane suddenly lurched out of control.

"_It's the end of the world as we know it, it's the end of the world as we know it…_"

The music was promptly shut off, followed by, "Terribly sorry for the audio malfunction. We hit a bit of turbulence in the clouds, nothing to sweat."

"Bloody genius pilot," Mick scoffed, laughing with his partner at the mishap in the cockpit while the plane evened its flight out.

* * *

><p>Mick shoved his phone back into his pocket, having just ended yet another call. This had been the only one he'd actually dialed himself, the rest had been old buddies of his ringing to say they heard he was back in London. He rather quickly wished he'd 'left' his phone back in America. The blonde profiler was one of very few people he truly wanted to speak with at the moment, and no, he certainly did not want to go get buzzed at the bar like old times.<p>

His sister was in a coma.

"That was Jenna's roommate. Turns out she's studying in France for a while, so their flat is empty. We can stay there instead of a hotel," he informed Gina, stepping in to the sedan he had rented for the trip.

"I feel sort of awkward staying in someone else's bed…" she stated, sitting in the passenger seat next to him.

"They have a spare room. Bloody! Who is calling me this time! Can you answer and tell whoever it is to go away? I have to drive and it's been a fair while since I've driven on this side of the street."

Gina reached for his phone in the cup holder between them and held it to her ear, "Hello, you've reached the office of Mick Rawson, this is his secretary speaking, what can I do for you?"

He turned to look at her with a mixture of surprise and amusement, mouthing 'who is it', to which she replied 'Macy Bates'. He shuddered and told her to get rid of the woman as quickly as she could.

"_Secretary? This is his personal phone!"_

"I'm a very personal secretary."

The Brit coughed loudly, choking on the air in his throat.

"_Look, I want to speak to Mick, I don't know who YOU are but I want him."_

"He's unavailable."

"_When will he BE available?"_

"For you? Let me check. Huh, it seems his schedule is booked."

"_How is that possible?"_

"You'd have to ask him. Oh, guess you can't, he's not available! Bye now."

Gina hung up before the woman could respond, Mick's ability to laugh silently finally ending.

"Clingiest broad I ever knew. I had a one night stand with all four of her best friends and she still tried to get with me. Not that I'm particularly proud of having slept with all of them. But you'd think she'd take a hint…" he griped before his phone rang again, "Bloody who this time?"

"Looks like Mason Bates. Any relation?"

"Her brother. Answer and get rid of him. I really can't be bothered to deal with either when Jenna's like this."

"Hello, Mick Rawson's phone, this is his secretary, can I help you?"

"_You slut my sister's cryin'-"_

"I'm sorry, we don't use language like that here. My boss won't be happy you've insulted me, I'd better hang up on you before you say anything more you might regret!"

She quickly pressed the red tab to terminate the call before Mason could whine any further.

"You sure you didn't major in Bratty Secretary Studies?" Mick smirked, glancing over at the blonde.

"It's not hard to deter unwanted callers. Oh, looks like they didn't get the hint, someone else is calling. Susan Clawson? Probably a coworker."

"Got that one right. Please make them stop."

"Hello, this is the morgue, are you calling for details on the late Mick Rawson?"

A variety of startled shrieks blared from the poor phone's speakers.

"Apparently he was nagged to death by people who wouldn't stop calling. You wouldn't happen to be involved, would you? If so, I'm afraid I'll have to report you to the proper authorities so you can be charged with murder in the first degree…"

_*Click*_

"Why how rude!"

* * *

><p>Racy but sadly, not reality! Next chapter we'll get to see poor Jenna for the first time. Thanks for reading and click that little button down there to leave a review if you could (:!<p> 


	4. In Which We Meet Nosy Brits

So I was actually productive and got this done ahead of schedule! Amazing, I know. Like I said before I'll be gone Mon-Fri this week so no updates until the weekend at the earliest when I'm home. Oof. Luckily there's enough other great SB stories to tide you over!

Thanks to all my reviewers, as always. Remember to leave a review if you read (and in case you were wondering but hadn't tried I do accept anonymous reviews) so I know your thoughts on the story. There's several directions it can go so let me know what you want to see! Thanks to all my readers as well, hope you're enjoying the story (:

**Disclaimer**: not mine.

Enjoy!

* * *

><p>When the profilers arrived at the St Mary's Hospital, they were informed visiting hours would begin again in an hour. As a result, two stiff, plastic chairs kept them company instead of the silent Jenna Rawson.<p>

Gina was half asleep next to him, slouched over in the chair at a terribly awkward angle. Mick was tempted to stir her simply because he wasn't sure he could look at how she was sleeping anymore. She'd probably have a rather stiff neck when a nurse finally came to get them from how crooked it was.

He looked around – the waiting room was fairly full, with only half an hour left until the visitors could see their loved ones. Seeing as he was too stressed to play Angry Birds properly, with a steady hand, and had slept too long on the plane, he was rather bored.

A young woman sat down next to him, her stilettos clanking on the floor as her hoop earrings swished. He spared her a quick glance, but turned away when he noticed how short her tight, cotton dress was. Apparently he hadn't averted his eyes fast enough, because she leaned over after rather blatantly mentally undressing him.

"Hellooo," she simpered, dragging the last syllable out as her eyelids dropped to imitate bedroom eyes.

She was certainly attractive but with his sister lying in a hospital bed, unconscious for who knew how long, he was rather disinterested. Fortunately, his fellow profiler chose that moment to snap out of her partial-sleep state and quickly took in the situation.

"Oh, honey, luvvie, wot's the time, eh?" she asked, in an embarrassingly fake British accent. Mick cringed as the other woman's face contorted in confusion and horror before she turned the other direction and pulled out a magazine.

"Love, never do that again. I mean never. You don't sound British," he ordered, shaking his head as if he was scolding a pet.

"Really? I thought it was pretty good…"

"No."

Gina frowned, thinking he was being too tough on her. It may have been common knowledge almost no Americans could accurately reproduce British accents, but surely, _surely_, she was the exception to the rule.

"Eh mate, y'got it wrong. I'm spoot on-" she tried again before his hand shot out and clasped over her mouth, muffling all further attempts to copy Mick's accent.

"Never means not ever, doll. Be a good girl or I'll force you to eat blood pudding and cabbage and gravy," he threatened, wondering if she'd switched brains with a small puppy when he turned his back.

"…You eat that?"

"Well, I don't, but some blokes here do. Now stop with the accent or you'll find out how it tastes."

"If I want to pretend to be British, I can. _You_ are not the boss of me."

"Maybe not, but, I am the one with a detailed knowledge of London, the key to the place you're staying at, the money, and the guy you're supposed to be making feel better. Not to mention, as your fake husband, you should follow my advice."

She looked at him like he was a moron.

"Now don't give me that look, love. In case you forgot, that ring on your finger was a _hundred_ thousand…" Mick began, prepared to try another avenue of dissuading her from getting punched for talking in such a bad accent, when a well-dressed woman walking by cut him off.

"Pardon me, _sir_, but money does _not_ buy you love. The price you paid for her ring gives you _no_ hold over her and I am _ashamed_ to be from the same nation as someone like _you_," she ranted, rather loudly, drawing the eye of enough people that the situation was going to end poorly regardless of how the profilers played it.

Gina seemed entirely confused by what the woman was saying, likely because she had been a victim of verbal and emotional manipulation, and monetary value had less of a sway over her.

"You seem to have misunderstood, miss. My wife and I-" he started, before loud groans from the crowd drowned him out. The look on Gina's face must have resembled fear or pain more than cluelessness, if the nosy crowd's reactions were any indication.

"She's his wife?"

"Can't believe that."

"As if that's any better."

The blonde finally caught up with what exactly was occurring around her, "Thank you for the concern but my _husband_ and I are just fine without your snooping."

The fashionable lady looked ready to retort, but a flock of nurses emerged from around a corner and began calling names.

"Mr. and Mrs. Rawson?" a portly woman trumpeted, and Mick shot up. Gina remained seated, looking around at the families' expressions as they got updates and seemingly oblivious to the nurse.

Mick gently kicked her ankle with his left foot and she realized the nurse had summoned them. Seeing as how she wasn't actually 'Mrs. Rawson' she kept forgetting to respond to the title when someone addressed her as it.

The nosy woman leaned over as Gina stood and walked by, "I… I see. You're a kidnapping victim. Look, doll, we can get you help, he can't hurt anyone…"

The eye roll Gina gave her was enough to send the woman off in a huff and the blonde hurried to catch up with Mick, who was speed walking with the nurse. She lost sight of them behind a particularly large gypsy family and when the tightly-packed group had passed, they were down a hallway. Gina rushed over but couldn't see which direction they had gone.

Her uncertain expression was apparently evidence enough she was indeed an abducted woman, and the stylish snoop quickly sped in her direction, bringing a security guard with her this time. The blonde didn't notice their approach and set off down the hall in what she thought was the correct direction for the room number they had been told, but the hospital had an odd layout and she wasn't positive it was the right way.

Her brisk pace was cause for alarm to the security guard, who blew his whistle and set off in hot pursuit. Gina went on the offensive, momentarily forgetting they weren't on a case, and started walking faster. A hand reached out and grabbed her arm, triggering her self-defense skills and she snagged his forearm, yanking hard enough to send the security guard to the ground.

Then she realized this wasn't a case and she had just thrown a British security guard to the floor.

He pulled a taser out as he stood back up, pointing it at her, then reached to grab his handcuffs.

"Mick… Mick! MICK!" Gina began yelling, hoping he was close enough to hear her as the guard closed in…

The nurse had stopped in front of Jenna's room, allowing Mick to look in as she checked Jenna's charts and latest test results. He was lost in thought, staring at her terribly pale form, lying limply on the bed.

It was horrible to see her like this, so dull and empty. Normally she was full of life, and he felt tears welling up at the sight.

"Do you hear that? Sounds like someone yelling…" the nurse asked, poking her head out of the room and glancing around like a satellite trying to pick up a signal.

It sounded vaguely like his name, and as he pulled himself away from the window, he realized Gina was not actually with them.

"Bloody…"

A short run back down the hallway found him shouting at the security guard to let the blonde go, who had one hand in cuffs and was rather reluctantly being dragged back through the waiting room, insisting she wasn't suffering from Stockholm syndrome.

The guard almost had her out the door when Mick finally managed to pull his FBI badge out, waving it in the guard's face.

"I told you, release her. I didn't bloody kidnap her, we flew over on a _plane_ together," Mick scowled, sizing the guard up as he finally stopped and warily pulled the key to his cuffs out.

As the cuff slipped open, Gina tugged her wrist out and rubbed it, glaring at the guard, "I said I was here with my FBI husband, seriously, what does it take to get you to lay off?"

The guard was ready to retort, but Mick pulled her away, heading back to his sister's room. Once they were out of earshot to anyone else, he whirled around to face her.

"My sister is in a coma and you go off and get yourself close to arrested? Come _on_," he angrily hissed, obviously upset as he kept glancing in at Jenna, lying exactly as he'd left her.

"I didn't try to! That nosy idiot wouldn't leave me alone and kept saying I was kidnapped. Mick, you know I wouldn't do something like this intentionally…" she trailed off as she noticed his eyes were fixed on Jenna now and her words likely had ceased to register.

She looped her arm through his and led him into the room, he followed awkwardly, taking uneven steps, but she directed him next to Jenna's bed regardless.

A lone tear huddled at the corner of his eye before spilling over, trickling down his face, and he didn't move to wipe it off. Gina reached up to run her finger up over the thin, descending droplet, removing the salty water, before pulling him into a tight hug.

When she glanced up from his chest later to the harsh, thin red lines of the room's digital clock, she realized two hours had passed.

It would be a while more before the portly nurse came in to send them out for the night and they finally separated from the other's arms.

* * *

><p>Fortunately, a different security guard was on duty by the time the profilers left the hospital, though he eyed them suspiciously as they passed as if he'd been warned to stay on the lookout for the duo.<p>

Gina didn't acknowledge him, though Mick did shoot the man a dirty glare, commenting, "Back when _I_ was employed in the defensive services of the Queen, we didn't waste time trying to arrest FBI agents in hospitals. Bloody decay."

"He was probably bored out of his mind and hoping he could be some big hero by 'saving' me from some guy who 'kidnapped' me while his sister's in a coma. At least you got him to back off before he took me down to the station."

"I'd have called Coop and had him demand they let you go."

"But they probably would have realized we were lying about being married and then we would've had to deal with that."

"They can't prove we're not engaged and just saying we're married because we're going to elope soon."

"All the same, let's _try_ and stay out of trouble from now on," she winked, climbing into their rental car as he put it in reverse, though he paused for a few moments before hitting the gas and backing up.

"Mick?" the blonde asked, reaching out to stroke his arm comfortingly.

"She shouldn't be lying on that bed. It's not right. Look at her… she could _die_ or never wake up and then I'll have to tell the hospital to unplug her and… oh…" he trailed off, looking like he was about to be sick.

Gina unbuckled her seatbelt and shifted the car into park, sliding over the compartment between them and twisting so she faced him, slipping her arms between his back and the seat to pull him into another hug.

"She will be fine. Jenna's going to wake up soon and make a full recovery, then you and I are going to fly home and listen to Beth and Prophet tease us for hours about a dumb ring and we'll solve cases and Jenna will go on living her life. Do you understand me?"

Describing their day-to-day schedule seemed to snap him out of it, and he nodded shakily, reaching an unsteady hand up to brush a few strands of stray hairs out of her face, though his palm lingered against her cheek long after the hairs were dealt with.

Finally he smiled, a ghost of his usual playful smirk, but an attempt nonetheless, "It's a shame there's so many other people around driving home or we could make use of this position."

Gina hadn't noticed she was straddling his lap until then, and moved to quickly return to her own seat, exhaling with a loud sniff into one of his eyes. He feigned agony but grinned at her, swapping to reverse again and backing out of the parking lot.

"Love," he began, then paused, looking slightly nervous, but her encouraging nod pressed him on, "I just wanted to say thanks. This whole while you've been trying to make me laugh or keep my spirits up and now it's 10 at night and we haven't eaten in bloody hours."

"Probably time to fix that, _eh_?" she grinned, laughing as he rolled his eyes at her slight accent attempt.

"And I wanted to apologize for snapping at you a bit."

"Don't think anything of it, I know you didn't mean to."

He smiled appreciatively, thankful once again Cooper had sent her and not another member of the team. This was where she shone, above the rest of them. "So, what're you in the mood for? Jenna didn't have much in the fridge that hasn't started looking a tad foul by now."

"Something American? No gravy or pudding or weird breakfast foods."

"I _do_ happen to know of a burger joint open late… but they might slip some gravy and custard onto your burger, and they only serve tea shakes," he winked, changing lanes.

"That sounds _so_ disgusting."

"It is."

* * *

><p>As always, reviews are loved, and thanks for reading! See you all in ~a week when I'm back and have Chapter 5 done!<p> 


	5. In Which We Plank

Oi, sorry everyone, I came home from camp with a gnarly cold and just haven't been feeling writing, plus I've had to finish a project for summer art, but, as you can see, things have begun to slip into their usual pace SO here we have Chapter 5!

**Disclaimer:** not mine.

Thanks to everyone who has read (and especially reviewed!) so far! I love hearing your thoughts on the story so keep giving them to me.

This chapter we see the beginning of the unfortunately hilarious events that our dear profilers will encounter, though this is almost entirely Mick's fault, as opposed to victim of circumstance like some future incidents will be. I'm really looking forward to some of the upcoming scenarios.. they're pretty darn funny if I do say so myself lol. Anyway, special guest appearances by the entire cast of the show, because everyone deserves a role in my stories.

* * *

><p>Gina had raised an eyebrow at the name 'Greedy Cow' for a burger restaurant, but considering how hungry she was, any sort of cow was better than none. Mick had flitted about, opening doors for her and escorting the blonde about. He tried to justify it as a 'good British upbringing', but it seemed more like medieval knight training.<p>

They sat at a table, staring out over the London cityscape while the burgers were cooked. Mick was relatively silent, which was odd for him, and he kept zoning out. His fixation on his injured sister was obvious, and though understandable, what she was there to prevent.

"I'm not _super_ tired. We could go somewhere after we eat, if you like?" she began, posing it as a question to get him talking.

He wasn't really up to giving her a tour of London. She might have been up for a little adventure, but flying across the ocean and actually seeing his sister, fragile and lifeless, not knowing when she'd wake up, if she ever would, had dulled his spirit for the night. However, there was a suggestion that would seem in-character enough she wouldn't suspect he was trying to mope about but that she would never accept, so he smugly raised his eyebrows as he replied, "You're in luck, love. I just happen to know one of the best make-out spots in all of England."

"You can get us up to the top of Big Ben at this hour?" the blonde asked, eyes wide.

Mick stared at her as though she'd sprung a second head. It was a fair bit of a struggle to figure out what exactly she was talking about, then he realized that was likely one of the only landmarks of London she knew of; presumably, she found it rather romantic as well.

"Love, do you really want to go up an old clock? It'll be a chore to see anything," he whined, hoping she'd agree to go on a tour some other time.

A waitress chose then to approach with their food, swaying her hip into place awfully close to the male profiler. His disinterest was obvious to the blonde, who held her left hand up and began fiddling with the large diamond ring. The British woman sniffed and walked away, sensing her pursuit of the sniper would be ill-fated.

"We can see the view at night. It's not like we're actually going to have an FBI-banned snog fest in a notable English landmark afterhours. Where were you talking about?"

"Oh, eh, just some hill. I wouldn't have taken you though, it was only good for cheap thrills. You, doll, are too special for that."

She blushed slightly, staring deep into his eyes, though he got the feeling she was searching more for his stability regarding Jenna than any romantic connection.

"You're sweet. Are you gonna smuggle us in to Big Ben or just talk big?"

The salt and grease injection from the burger had shot a bit of life back into the Brit; he contemplated the ways of legally gaining access to the landmark this late at night and figured at least one guard would probably be a fan of one of the UK's best snipers.

"Sure, love. Grab your stuff and let's go," he smirked.

* * *

><p>It had been extraordinarily easy to get into Big Ben. One of the guards on duty turned out to be a huge fan of Special Forces snipers and idolized Mick. A quick autographing of nearly every item that could be signed and a few pictures snapped by Gina in the dim lighting found the profilers at the top, standing above the large face of the clock on the balcony.<p>

The Brit had walked forward to the railing, leaning his right side against it, and the blonde was quick enough to slip in between his chest and the rail before he brought his left to the edge as well. She flashed an innocent grin when he raised an eyebrow, and he wrapped his left arm partially around her, clutching the stone rail.

Gina gazed out at the dark London skyline, illuminated by brief points of light from windows and streets. It was brighter than many horizons she'd looked upon, simply due to how far the city sprawled. Of course, Las Vegas took the cake for cities that blocked out the stars, but this was fairly bright, all things considered.

She was quite content to remain sandwiched between her fellow profiler and the aging barrier between them and a very long fall. Though he wasn't all there mentally, still a bit preoccupied with his sister, his physical presence, pressed against her, was a tad more pleasant than it should be.

If Mick was honest with himself, this was slightly outside his comfort zone. Viewing the nightscape of a prominent global city from one of its trademark buildings, all alone, at night, with a balmy breeze and a very attractive woman flush against him was edging on much too romantic. It simply wasn't his thing to set up such scenarios. Women flocked to him and he had no need for sweet, tender moments like this, for the most part. Indeed, if he wanted to go anywhere further with his lovely coworker, he'd need to arrange for a fair few more emotionally charged moments before seducing her.

Then again, it depended on whether she was interested in the first place. If she was really only here to be his emotional cheerleader and make sure he didn't get too wasted and kill himself, she probably wouldn't be receptive to any advances. She was absolutely flirty back, and playful enough, that she might just be game…

This was a rather dangerous train of thought. First of all, his sister was still in a coma, which was his primary focus, and it made him feel almost sick to consider any woman before his own flesh and blood. Gina was there to support him through this, not be a personal sex slave. He had to do something else, and fast, before he could keep on thinking.

The grease and salt boost was still gaining in strength, and as he looked at the fairly broad railing, he had a genius/terrible idea. He'd later say it depended on who you asked.

Mick pulled away from the blonde, whirling around her to pull himself onto the rail, lying flat on it.

"What the crap are you doing?" Gina shrieked, assuming he was attempting to commit suicide by plunging to his untimely death off the side of a London clock tower, after hours, when they shouldn't even be out on its balcony. The amount of paperwork and questioning that would follow were really too much.

"Look love, I'm planking. Take a picture, quick," he smirked, lifting a hand to indicate his straight body, precariously balanced upon the ledge. Her face must have been mortified, because he started laughing, only to be distracted by an odd whirring noise.

A news helicopter was ascending right in front of the tower, and it paused to snap several photographs of them, as evidenced by the blinding flashes. Mick teetered, yanking an arm up to block his eyes, and Gina lunged forward with a startled cry to pull him back onto the balcony, which resulted in him lying on top of her, though sideways, as she fell down from her bad foot placement.

"If pictures of you _planking_ get out, I'm going to personally throw you over the side of this thing," she scowled from underneath the Brit, who grinned sheepishly back, flipping the helicopter off as it flew away.

* * *

><p>"Hey, Prophet, look at this article. 'Couple caught planking on Big Ben at midnight'. Talk about idiots," Beth laughed, turning her laptop screen towards her fellow brunette, who chuckled before returning to his efforts of getting a Chinese finger puzzle off his fingers.<p>

His success was nonexistent.

A loud noise, somewhere between a zebra having its innards ripped out and a chain smoker choking on the tar in his lungs, shot through the room, disrupting the momentary silence. His head shot up to look at Beth's bulging eyes, locked onto the screen and glowing with the light from the computer.

Her index finger tentatively rose up, pointing at something, and he quickly rushed over to look.

"Are you serious…" he groaned, staring at a picture that looked very suspiciously like two certain coworkers who just happened to be in the same city as Big Ben.

Beth rushed to call Penelope after she recovered from the shock.

"George, Garret, Gregory, Garcia… GARCIA! I'm about to send you a picture, run a facial identifying thingy on it. Who are these people?" she spluttered, hoping dearly it was not Mick lying on a railing when he clearly shouldn't have even been in the clock tower.

Fickler would not be pleased at all.

"Um, of course buttercups, but I would appreciate it if you could remember my name… oh my God you have to be joking," the hacker spat, eyes widening as she loaded the photo.

Prophet was busy shaking his head, begging for this to be a bad dream. Cooper was out of the room on a phone call and, rather fortunately, missing this entire exchange. The ex-con wasn't sure how their leader would take the news Mick had been caught by a reputable news organization doing something as juvenile as _planking_. And on Big Ben's rails, at midnight, with Gina right there, looking absolutely useless in the background.

"Facial recognition is a match. That's the one and only Mick Rawson hovering very close to a deadly fall with his charming sidekick completely mortified right behind him. I sure hope nobody important sees this. Have a good day my little rays of sunshine," she reported back shortly, forcing herself to stay cheerful. She was going to call that dumb Brit and tell him if he ever did something as stupid as that again, he would be planked _on_ by Miss Penelope Garcia.

And a couple tons of sharp, pointy things.

"This is a disaster. Can we like, get a media blackout? Pull these images before this goes south?" Beth was grasping for straws, knowing there was no way any positive spin could be put on something like this. It would look stupid but funny at best, and downright crazy at worst.

Cooper chose that moment to walk back in, an entirely annoyed expression on his face. The firm pursing of his lips, held tightly together, and his not-so-subtly displeased glances towards the phone he mashed off as he passed through the doorway said everything as he silently returned to his desk and eyed the two agents.

"Awww crap…"

* * *

><p>Mick grumbled as his phone rang. It was much too early for anyone to be calling, and who would be calling? Gina was a room away, Cooper wouldn't be disturbing him… if it was some broad from Interpol looking for a good time he was going to land <em>her<em> in the hospital, oh, the hospital. Realizing it was likely news about his sister, he shot a hand out, fumbling for the small device.

"Yes?" he mumbled, trying to rouse himself. The lighting streaking through the window indicated it was simply unreasonable to be awoken at such an early hour, especially considering the late night. The duo hadn't returned to Jenna's flat until close to two in the morning, after a very long talk about dangerous planking decisions and a quick tour of the city to get ice cream to make up for the emotional stress he'd caused Gina.

"Agent Rawson. We have some choices of yours to discuss. Is Agent LaSalle with you?" Fickler's voice boomed through the phone, sounding dangerously monotone. This wouldn't be good.

"Nah, she's still asleep," he replied, assuming she hadn't been woken by his phone ringing, and judging by the silence outside his room, she hadn't previously risen from her slumber.

"You know this how?" the director deadpanned. He was certainly giving Beth a run for her money, and that would be a showdown Mick would pay to watch. It would likely mean the firing of their feisty brunette teammate, but she'd give Fickler an earful before she was gone.

"Well, she's in the other room, but there's no sounds, so she's probably still asleep, eh," the Brit huffed sarcastically, realizing what Fickler was implying. That they were sleeping together. As if Gina would get busy with him the first night they were there, even if he had bought her a ring worth more than his apartment.

"I _suppose_ you can relay the message. Photographic evidence of you engaging in an activity known as 'planking' has surfaced. Normally I'd rule this off as a juvenile, but permissible, decision, however the images were taken around midnight, your time. At the top of Big Ben. On the stone railing, where you could, you know, fall and die. Now I just have to wonder, Agent, are you making good choices?"

Director didn't mess around.

"Mate, that was just a tad bit of fun. I was perfectly safe, never in any danger of falling. How was I supposed to know some chopper would show up to snap pics of me?"

"Of course, 'a tad bit of fun'. It seems more like a poor judgment call to me. What are people supposed to think if they see an FBI agent sneaking around a cherished English landmark in the middle of the night, _planking_? And speaking of, I'm not sure I agree with Agent Cooper's decision to send LaSalle with you. She obviously can't control your, for lack of a better word, stupider impulses. Perhaps her time would be best spent back in DC, instead of failing to babysit you properly."

"Now look, that's not fair. I moved too quickly for her to stop, and she told me well enough it was a bad idea. Leave her out of this, she's a great help to my emotional status."

"Yes, I'm sure a woman you're highly attracted to spending an unknown period of time with you, alone, providing 'comfort' and 'support' is an excellent asset to have. Fortunately for you, but rather tragically for someone like me who is trying to enforce order and intelligent decisions, your unit is above the usual regulations governing inter-unit relationships. However, if I get wind of you doing something moronic like this again, you will no longer be a member of the Red Cell team. And if you need help deciphering what is and is not a stupid choice, perhaps you should consult Agent LaSalle for her opinion. It will prove relevant when you're deciding what color to paint the nursery," Fickler concluded, a bit smug by the end, however maintaining his tranquilly displeased tone all the while.

Mick was silent, rather confused by what the director was getting at, and the older man took the time to quite happily hang up, before the Brit could respond with something that would get him into trouble.

"What are we going to do with a bloody nursery? Oh…" he spoke aloud, before realizing Fickler meant when they were (actually) married and having a baby. Flopping back down onto the bed to hopefully get more sleep before checking in on his sister, he sighed.

Marrying her wouldn't be so bad. She was already wearing his engagement ring…

* * *

><p>Thank you for reading! As always, your reviews are much loved (: And sorry for the delay between updates, I'll try to stick to a more regular pacing now that I'm home the rest of the summer. Gina's reaction to her handsome coworker getting caught on camera planking (and the story going viral) is up next for starters.<p> 


	6. In Which Facebook Causes Chaos

Back on schedule updating! Here's Chapter 6 for you all to enjoy, hopefully it's as funny as the rest of them!

**Disclaimer**: not mine.

As always, a huge thanks to all my readers and reviewers who stick with this story and give me their thoughts. You guys are the best ever (: Better than CBS canceling the show.. I still think ABC should've taken it, it beat just about all their dramas in the demos lol.

Mick111: planking in the context here is some dumb photo phenomenon where people lay completely straight, arms at their sides, on top of weird stuff. The weirder the better, and the thinner, the more impressive your ability to remain flat. It's unbelievably dumb but sort of funny, so not exactly like PE planks. Look up "The Plank Song" by ThePlankSong on YouTube for an example.

sunshinecutiebre: your reviews always make me smile LOL they're so kind, I'm glad you're enjoying the story. That's what it's here for!

* * *

><p>Mick grumbled as his phone rang. It was much too early for anyone to be calling, and who would be calling? Gina was a room away, Cooper wouldn't be disturbing him… if it was some broad from Interpol looking for a good time he was going to land <em>her<em> in the hospital, oh, the hospital. Realizing it was likely news about his sister, he shot a hand out, fumbling for the small device.

"Yes?" he mumbled, trying to rouse himself. The lighting streaking through the window indicated it was simply unreasonable to be awoken at such an early hour, especially considering the late night. The duo hadn't returned to Jenna's flat until close to two in the morning, after a very long talk about dangerous planking decisions and a quick tour of the city to get ice cream to make up for the emotional stress he'd caused Gina.

"Agent Rawson. We have some choices of yours to discuss. Is Agent LaSalle with you?" Fickler's voice boomed through the phone, sounding dangerously monotone. This wouldn't be good.

"Nah, she's still asleep," he replied, assuming she hadn't been woken by his phone ringing, and judging by the silence outside his room, she hadn't previously risen from her slumber.

"You know this how?" the director deadpanned. He was certainly giving Beth a run for her money, and that would be a showdown Mick would pay to watch. It would likely mean the firing of their feisty brunette teammate, but she'd give Fickler an earful before she was gone.

"Well, she's in the other room, but there's no sounds, so she's probably still asleep, eh," the Brit huffed sarcastically, realizing what Fickler was implying. That they were sleeping together. As if Gina would get busy with him the first night they were there, even if he had bought her a ring worth more than his apartment.

"I _suppose_ you can relay the message. Photographic evidence of you engaging in an activity known as 'planking' has surfaced. Normally I'd rule this off as a juvenile, but permissible, decision, however the images were taken around midnight, your time. At the top of Big Ben. On the stone railing, where you could, you know, fall and die. Now I just have to wonder, Agent, are you making good choices?"

Director didn't mess around.

"Mate, that was just a tad bit of fun. I was perfectly safe, never in any danger of falling. How was I supposed to know some chopper would show up to snap pics of me?"

"Of course, 'a tad bit of fun'. It seems more like a poor judgment call to me. What are people supposed to think if they see an FBI agent sneaking around a cherished English landmark in the middle of the night, _planking_? And speaking of, I'm not sure I agree with Agent Cooper's decision to send LaSalle with you. She obviously can't control your, for lack of a better word, stupider impulses. Perhaps her time would be best spent back in DC, instead of failing to babysit you properly."

"Now look, that's not fair. I moved too quickly for her to stop, and she told me well enough it was a bad idea. Leave her out of this, she's a great help to my emotional status."

"Yes, I'm sure a woman you're highly attracted to spending an unknown period of time with you, alone, providing 'comfort' and 'support' is an excellent asset to have. Fortunately for you, but rather tragically for someone like me who is trying to enforce order and intelligent decisions, your unit is above the usual regulations governing inter-unit relationships. However, if I get wind of you doing something moronic like this again, you will no longer be a member of the Red Cell team. And if you need help deciphering what is and is not a stupid choice, perhaps you should consult Agent LaSalle for her opinion. It will prove relevant when you're deciding what color to paint the nursery," Fickler concluded, a bit smug by the end, however maintaining his tranquilly displeased tone all the while.

Mick was silent, rather confused by what the director was getting at, and the older man took the time to quite happily hang up, before the Brit could respond with something that would get him into trouble.

"What are we going to do with a bloody nursery? Oh…" he spoke aloud, before realizing Fickler meant when they were (actually) married and having a baby. Flopping back down onto the bed to hopefully get more sleep before checking in on his sister, he sighed.

Marrying her wouldn't be so bad. She was already wearing his engagement ring…

* * *

><p>After about an hour of uneasy sleep, Mick decided to give up his efforts of returning to bed. It was six in the morning, still absurdly early to be awake, but a deep slumber was eluding him after Fickler had decided to give him a little pep talk. He showered, spending longer than he usually would under the water, before walking past Gina's room. She was still asleep, a slight smile gracing her face, so he left her to rest and continued on to the kitchen.<p>

He'd cook her breakfast to soften the news that Fickler, Cooper, and their entire team almost assuredly knew he'd gone planking on Big Ben. Hopefully she wouldn't fling him from a tall building if he was honest upfront, and had a hot meal prepared for her. He made a mental note to skip the gravy and any odd pudding or pie. But she probably would remain unconscious for a while longer, so starting anything now meant it'd be cold by the time she was ready to eat.

Mick checked the fridge once again, disheartened to discover that no bacon, ham or eggs had miraculously appeared overnight. The biscuit mix in the cabinet had a bug crawling around in it, so he'd dumped that. After trying the Fruit Loops, he was highly disappointed to learn they'd probably been sitting there since the last time he'd eaten from that very box, when he was still living in England.

His plans of breakfast in bed were quickly brought to a halt. No food meant no cooking and no way to appease the dragon that would be his fake-wife when she woke up. He'd figured out long ago she wasn't much of a morning person, unlike Cooper, who seemingly never had an off hour.

The Brit considered his options. He could sit around and do nothing, maybe watch some television if there was anything decent on, possibly read a book if Jenna had any good ones, or go out. Gina would likely be upset if he drove all the way to the hospital without her, and it would be nearly impossible to carry her down to the rental car, put her in, drive there and carry her to Jenna's room without waking her up or raising suspicions he was actually abducting her this time.

There was, however, a small grocery within walking distance. By walking distance, he meant he could get there and back in about an hour and a half, and once he was done cooking it would be eight and reasonable to assume she'd start to wake up on her own. Her instructions were to prevent him from driving off a cliff or something similarly outrageous, and he couldn't really get into much trouble walking.

Grabbing his cellphone, credit card, and the keys to Jenna's flat, he walked out, locking the door.

Mick called St Mary's, asking about his sister. The tired nurse, probably still on the graveyard shift and waiting eagerly for her replacement, told him there was still no change. That meant there was no rush to go to the hospital besides wanting to see her and talk to her still form, begging her to wake up.

Walking through London at this time was boring. He opened the Facebook app on his phone and was surprised to see 'Gina LaSalle' plastered everywhere. She hadn't logged out from the night before, which meant he had unlimited access to her account.

The blonde and Beth had managed to crack his laptop's password, which he had stupidly set as 'iloveblondes13', thinking they wouldn't guess something so obvious and juvenile, when he got up to use the restroom while they were waiting for another case. In the span of two minutes, he had gone from Mick Rawson, single man, to Minnie Rawson, transgendered woman who recently successfully had her surgery and was requesting to become engaged to Prophet.

The number of messages and phone calls he'd gotten for a week after that warranted retaliation. Some dumb broad from Interpol was _still_ convinced he had actually undergone gender reassignment surgery. Unfortunately, never had the opportunity presented itself to hack into either's. Until now.

He made a mental checklist of things to edit as he crossed another street.

Last name: Rawson. Relationship status: Married (to Mick Rawson, which he would have to accept once he switched back into his account). Biography: I love my super fantastic wonderful sugarplum husband more than anything else ever!1! :3. Interests: Mick of course! Lives in: Mick's awesome house. Profile photo: hmm, that was tricky. He decided to go looking on his phone and found one of her wearing the ring she had taken promptly after buying it, to show him his 100 grand purchase. Perfect, she would want to show the ring off. Profile picture set. Status: Mick Rawson is the best boo of all time! OF ALL TIME!

He laughed. It'd be easy enough to change back, and it'd give Prophet and Beth a great laugh. As he clicked 'log out' to go back onto his, he realized Fickler would probably consider this a stupid decision. Then he'd ask how Mick had gotten access to Gina's Facebook and why they had an actual engagement ring. Not thinking, he clicked 'Accept' for her relationship update, then it hit him he still had to tell her the director of the FBI found out about their late night planking.

And now he had to explain why her Facebook was a virtual shrine to him.

Frantically he logged back out and tried to sign into hers, but his phone hadn't saved the password and he couldn't guess it before it locked him out.

"Bloody…"

* * *

><p>After exiting the grocery with all his desired items in hand, Mick had figured he ought to see what damage he'd done. He opened Facebook once again on his phone and checked his recent updates.<p>

55 notifications. Congratulations on the marriage from 54 people, and some obscene number who had 'liked' the relationship change.

Mentally punching himself in the face, he clicked the blonde's name to go to her wall.

He looked at the relationship update: 201 people have liked this.

Then her status: 194 people have liked this.

Unfortunately, all of that was buried beneath what he figured was at least 70 "congrats, this was so sudden!" wall posts, one from a man with her same last name that he presumed was her father saying they "needed to talk" and that he was "very disappointed in her impulsive decisions".

Her father? Oh bother. She would literally shred him for this. Sure, she and Beth had made him out to be a sex change patient, but he knew just how tenuous the relationship with her father was. And there would be no getting on his good side when she told the older man her dumb Brit coworker had done all of this.

He sighed loudly and clicked the profile picture.

214 likes. Over 100 comments on how large the ring was and how nice her new husband must be.

The last was from her father: "If this is a real diamond I approve of your marital choice. But we still need to talk about this. Immediately."

She was going to impale him on one of Big Ben's hands.

* * *

><p>Gina woke up to the strong scent of bacon, syrup and Mick's signature cologne. He was lying across from her, gazing into her eyes and smiling, a tray of food behind him.<p>

She pushed herself up slightly, looking about. A couple minutes after eight, which was when she naturally seemed to wake up. Mick was fully dressed though the food was still steaming: he had just finished cooking it, however it looked like he had been awake for a while before that.

"Morning, love. Sleep well?" he asked, in a uniquely-Mick seductively tender tone. The way he was just lazily sprawled on his side, making her breakfast in bed, smiling softly made her wonder if they had actually slept together and/or gotten married and she simply couldn't remember it yet. If this wasn't the case, how downright sexy he looked in the morning light made a very convincing argument for making things happen.

"Yes, fine. You look like you've been up for a bit," she replied, stretching and reaching for the glass of water on the tray, which he handed to her.

He rose himself to pass the tray to her, saying, "A fair while. I went down to the grocery, now stop, love, I walked, I wouldn't drive without you."

She sighed in contentment as she bit into a sausage, reclining against her pillow as Mick snagged the third muffin off the side, obviously intended for him to begin with.

"Did you call the hospital?"

"Jenna's the same as before."

"Well, at least she isn't worse, huh? What woke you up?"

Mick tensed: he hadn't prepared a lie to cover up Fickler's phone call and she knew immediately something was amiss.

"About that. Fickler decided to give me a ring. Apparently, there's a, uh, rather popular series of images going around. Of us. They focus on me, though. Planking. On Big Ben. He wasn't overly amused. However, he suggested I consult with you before making any decisions that could be ruled as stupid from now on. Something about you, me, and choosing our future interior decoration themes," he blurted, trying to remain suave but rushing to get everything out as her expression darkened.

"Photographs of you and me, illegally on a London landmark afterhours, are circulating across the Internet? Mick Rawson you are unbelievable!"

"Well as long as I listen to you Fickler's not doing anything. So we're not in trouble. But Beth, Prophet and Penelope will likely never shut up about it. That's the worst of it."

"Every little thing I say, you're obeying. Please tell me that's all," she groaned, finishing off the scrambled eggs. She was enjoying the meal, which meant his unpleasant news would be slightly less unpleasant to her. But now it was time for the _real_ kicker.

"You uh, remember that time you and Beth guessed my password?"

She took a few moments to recall the event, blinking her eyes as she tried to recollect what the fallout had been. They went wide when she realized what he was talking about.

"You _didn't_," she spat darkly, voice deepening dangerously.

Oh crap, he was really in for it. He'd checked right before walking in and the 'likes' hadn't stopped coming in yet. She had a _lot_ of Facebook friends, and it seemed like every one was online at that very moment.

"I uh, er, made us… Facebook official," he grinned weakly, whimpering as she slowly sat up to tower over him.

"You _did not_."

"It's alright, your friends were all very happy for you… us. Your father-"

"_WHAT!_"

"-was a bit shady on the idea at first but the ring convinced him. He'd like to speak with you about this whole thing, though."

"You _talked_ to him?"

"Of course not, doll, I posted a picture of the ring."

"You… you… you…"

"I love you."

And he ran faster than a cheetah on fire.

* * *

><p>Mick had tossed his phone onto the bed before sprinting away. She was really quite impressed with his speed. He always looked good running, but his looks weren't going to get him out of this one. Scowling as she logged onto her account, only to see closing in on a thousand notifications, she let out a yell.<p>

Had he genuinely thought this was a good idea? Sure, Beth and her changing his Facebook had been pretty mean and he was still pestered about it every so often, so it wasn't like she didn't exactly deserve it, but to hack her Facebook _after_ Fickler had told him not to do anything stupid again? He was just asking to be fired and/or slapped.

The worst part of it was, not a single person thought this _was_ a hack. Anyone who knew her and Mick said they'd seen it coming a mile away, and her other friends simply congratulated her. Nobody had any sort of clue this was the result of a bored sniper going through emotional strife looking to get revenge.

Even her own father, and sister, and grandmother, believed him.

She deleted the profile picture of the ring, not seeing the need to keep the image up if they were just going to sell it back once this whole ordeal was over. Then she realized her old profile picture had been, of course, her and Mick himself. Prophet's hand was in it as well but that didn't really count. So it still looked like they were together for real and she couldn't figure out how to change profile pictures on his phone, since they didn't have the same device.

She was stuck with that, but the next order of business was deleting that one status. He had already changed the married part back to single, all she had to do was confirm.

Which, unfortunately, brought in a wave of new wall posts and comments. And not a single like.

Gina posted a status of her own: Sorry everyone, Mick Rawson was proving once again he's really 12 years old. Still single :).

All she could do was hope people would realize this was a fake, a little prank he'd pulled, and stop bothering her about it. She didn't even think to change her profile information, not noticing the new location or interests. Nor could she figure out how to change her name on his phone. In fact, it appeared to have locked her out of changing it for the day, perhaps even longer.

Suddenly an odd notification popped up: her newest status had been marked as spam. So had the relationship change, which had been reverted to its previous 'Married' title, complete with a warning not to mess around with the relationship feature.

His phone was very close to being hurled at the farthest wall possible. People wouldn't even believe she had been hacked and now she couldn't get out of this. First they'd told airline officials they were married just to _sit_ by each other, then hospital workers they were together so she could stay with the Brit, now it was plastered all over her Facebook.

A new notification came in, a wall post from her best friend: "I don't know who hacked your FB to try and change that stuff, must be some jealous guy upset you're off the market for good, but leave Gina alone! PS call me girl, your phone is off, we need to talk about your hot new hub ;)"

Fine, forget it. If all these idiots wanted to believe she would suddenly get married to her coworker, let them. She'd fix this later, quietly change everything back when this had blown over. She was locked out of half of it now anyway. She did, however, have to send a quick message to her father.

"Dad, I can't really call you, I'm in England right now, Mick's sister is in a coma and I went with him, we're not actually married though, I know how this looks, especially because I'm on his phone to even send you this. It was a prank. Just know I'm not doing anything stupid, sorry I can't explain it better."

He probably wouldn't be very content with that, but it would have to do. Mick's phone had an English contract, which allowed him to use the data sans ridiculous fees, but calling internationally would still be a pretty penny. He deserved it, for doing all this, but she and Beth had been equally as terrible to his Facebook.

Now they just had to get Beth back. It had been the brunette's idea, and her guess, that had started this in the first place. Gina was down a fair bit of dignity, but Beth would be in for so much worse.

This did, however, mean that the Brit would be working extra hard to avoid any more _stupid decisions_, as per Fickler's request, and her wrath.

"Mick, dear?" she called out loudly, hoping wherever he was hiding he could hear her.

"What is it, love?" he tentatively yelled back, voice nervous.

"Let's visit your sister. And then we're going shopping, I need a necklace that matches this ring. And you're paying, _sugarplum_."

She could almost see him cringe in submittal.

"Yes dear," he meekly replied.

Gina smirked. It was good to see Mick Rawson rolling over for a woman.

* * *

><p>Oof, Mick, you really need to make some better decisions. Hacking a girl's Facebook is NOT your best call, but it is pretty funny to imagine him changing all that then being like 'ooooh crap' at the fallout. I figured Gina was the sort of person who nobody can really dislike so she has a ton of friends on FB from college and the academy and high school and whatever else. And all of them love her ring.. LOL. This is setting the stage further for some of the big upcoming drama, and we'll be seeing a bit more of Jenna soon.. plus some ProphetBeth/Penelope reaction scenes next chapter.

Your reviews are loved, and thank you for reading!


	7. In Which a Bet is Placed

Heyyy Chapter 7 is here! I'm doing pretty good getting these things written on a consistent basis now that I'm home and only have one class, unlike the other 9 months of the year. Plus I'm pretty sure these chapters are turning out to be longer than Suspect Covers' were which is good! The ridiculous chaos has settled down now, for anyone who wasn't too much of a fan of some of the crazy stuff that went on. Now the stage has been set for the upcoming drama which could very well happen in real life.. stay tuned to find out what these two get themselves into next!

**Disclaimer**: mine? sadly not.

Thanks to all my readers and reviewers as always! I really appreciate my reviewers letting me know what they're thinking of the story and it's always great to know people are liking it and actually reading. You guys are the best!

* * *

><p>Jenna was still unconscious. It was one of the eeriest sights he had ever seen: his own sister, usually so vivacious and lively, lying still, unmoving. She had been in the exact same position they'd left her in the day before. She was such a fireball when she was conscious it made him sick to see her so flat and vacant.<p>

Gina frowned, not just because Jenna had gone another day past when she was supposed to wake up, but because of how Mick just slumped, shoulders sagging, body going limp as he stood, hands in his pockets, emptily staring. She wished there was some magical fix for this, and she could simply will the British woman awake, but alas, there was no easy button.

Finally he stepped forward, dragging his right hand out of its fabric cocoon and grasping his little sister's left hand. Not a single twitch greeted him and he shook his head, clutching her fingers tighter. He tensed a bit, head jerking slightly, and the blonde took her cue to step out of the room for a moment.

She closed the door behind her, focusing on the dulled bronze knob. What could she do to cheer him up? He was in there, begging his little sister to get better, telling her secrets nobody else should hear. Ever since Jenna was born he had been protecting her, looking out for her, caring for her, and now he had been helpless to prevent harm from falling upon her. He couldn't even do anything to wake her up and get her well.

Poor Mick. She pulled his phone out of her pocket, still in possession of it, and checked her Facebook. The notifications were slowing but still coming in. Gina audibly groaned in the hallway when she saw 'Beth Griffith has written on your wall.'

She clicked the notification reluctantly, not bothering to try and eavesdrop on what Mick was saying.

"Jenna, I'm not sure if you can hear me, I'm not an expert at saving lives, just ending them. But I want you to know I'm here. And I'm not going anywhere until you're better. But I'd really like you to wake up. You're not supposed to be like this, half-dead and asleep. You have to meet someone, Jenna. She's special, and I think you'd really like her, because I do," he began, pausing to glance at his sister.

No response. Her vitals remained the same, not a single variation, so he continued on, "Her name is Gina and she's outside right now, but she'll stay with me until you wake up. So you can meet her when you wake up, but you should snap out of this. Soon. Now."

His pleas didn't seem to be working, though at least she wasn't getting worse. Mick sighed, bending down to plant a tender kiss on her cheek. He brushed a strand of hair off her face that the air conditioning must have blown, blinking his eyes furiously to get rid of the tear threatening to fall. He shouldn't be embarrassed to cry over his sister when she was in a coma and the only one who would see, and even if Gina figured it out she would be sensitive enough to not tease him.

The tear admitted defeat, however, so he stood to walk out. Jenna would wake up when she'd wake up. He turned the doorknob, walking out, though Gina didn't notice. Instead she glared at his phone, lost in thought.

"What's up, love?" he asked, though his voice came out a lot meeker than he had intended it to, representing how he was feeling.

She passed the phone to him, not bothering to look at her coworker.

The wall post she had up was from Beth. Before he could read a single word she'd typed he knew this wasn't going to end well. Fickler was going to strangle him alive, or at least force Gina to go back to DC.

_Why_ had he thought this was a remotely good idea?

* * *

><p>"…Beth, you need to check Facebook right now. Right. Now. NOW," Prophet spat, staring intently at his screen. His voice was higher than it needed to have been to get her attention.<p>

She swapped tabs on her laptop, loading Facebook up. Her heart stopped functioning.

"What did they _do_?" she gasped in horror, looking at the newly-changed relationship between her coworkers. 'Married', of all the things. This would never end well. Then she saw Gina's status, and all the changed information.

"So are they serious or…?" the tall man asked tentatively, on Gina's profile looking at the damage.

"Nah, she left hers logged in on his phone. He got her back for that time we hacked him," she smirked, remembering how mad he'd been when he found out he was now a girl named Minnie.

"You know they're coming for you next. He got her _good_ though. She's probably beating him with his own belt for this, man. Her _father_ commented about it."

"He's probably enjoying it. He's got a subtle abuse fetish; if she's belting him he'll like it."

"That's a pleasant thought."

"At least they're married."

The duo started laughing, but Beth's phone ringing soon cut them off. It was their cheerful tech, who probably had just found the status updates herself.

"Seen the good news yet, Penelope?" Beth snickered over the phone, answering the call.

"Yes! Tell me this is for real. It seems like such an awkward time considering what just happened to his sister but you never know with those two," Garcia cheered, squeaking loudly over the phone, which Beth put on speaker so Prophet could be involved in the conversation.

"Nah, Mick changed all of it himself to get back at her. Sort of unbelievable he'd do it right after Fickler spanked him over the phone for planking," Prophet commented, unable to keep the smile off his face.

"However, they did fly to London under the ruse they were married, to sit with each other," Beth threw out.

"So they're telling airlines they're getting down and dirty, Facebooking about it, who wants to bet by the time we get those two lovebirds back they'll have a legitimate contract?" Penelope giggled, half-serious about taking a bet on the couple.

"I'll bet a hundred they come back married," Prophet offered.

"That's not fair, I wanted that they came back married. I'll bet two hundred!" Beth scowled, unwilling to let the most likely choice slip away, and the chance to drain Prophet of his paycheck.

"Do we have three hundred?"

"Yeah, three hundred."

"Four hundred she's keeping that ring on her finger for good."

"I want in for five hundred. You two will _pay_."

"Sorry P, this pot's too rich for you. Six hundred."

"I am not paying you anything, seven hundred."

"Want to up it again, my devilishly handsome felon?"

"Yes, I'm going to win this and make Beth fork over her cash."

"Nine hundred. Stop before I dress you up like a schoolgirl and Youtube the video."

"Can anyone beat my thousand dollar bet?"

"Maybe Beth can, with her fugitive trust fund she has stashed away in an untraceable European bank, but I'm out."

"I'll stash you in a safety deposit box in some seedy bank if you keep on about that fugitive BS. I'm done too, you better hope you're right Penelope or your next paycheck is being deposited with us."

"Oh, darlings, they _will_ be coming back married, whether they thought so or not. The Oracle of Knowledge does not lose bets to mere mortals like yourselves. Prepare my thousand bucks," the hacker taunted, tapping a pen against the side of her desk, content that she had just won herself two thousand off the Red Cell team.

"You are aware federal agents aren't supposed to gamble, right?" Cooper's voice rang out, but it was loaded with amusement and he had a large smile on his face.

"I wouldn't say we're gambling, it's a done deal that the outcome of this trip to London will be Gina's Facebook name _staying_ Rawson," Beth deadpanned, slipping into her usual sassy tone.

"I think it flows, Gina Rawson. At least it doesn't sound stupid, man," Prophet shrugged, kicking his feet up onto Beth's desk.

She glared at him and he swiftly swiveled his chair to put his feet on a less dangerous surface.

"Should I get started on changing her official records over?" Penelope asked cheerfully, still pleased she'd just conned two FBI profilers out of ten Benjamin's each.

"You could save a draft file of the revised papers," Cooper chuckled, sitting down and pulling out a case file.

"Play time's over, P, some creep is off killing girls again. See you when you lose," Prophet smirked, reaching for Beth's phone to hang up before the redhead could come up with a clever retort.

"I'd lose if our beloved dollface hadn't been slobbering all over her hunk of British handsome for months before this. Penelope Two-Thousand-Richer Garcia signing off," she managed to get in before his hand could find the phone on Beth's desk from his reclined position in his chair.

Beth turned back to her laptop briefly as Cooper pulled the files out and distributed them, the brunette woman furiously typing away. She snickered in satisfaction as she closed the laptop, focusing on the case before them.

Gina would be furious.

* * *

><p>Mick read Beth's wall post aloud, not entirely believing what he was seeing. Maybe he was hallucinating and Gina would correct him. Or maybe she'd throttle him through a glass window and he'd join his sister in a coma. Then she'd feel bad and if she wasn't arrested for assaulting a fellow FBI agent she'd sit by his bed, holding his hand, crying softly, until he woke up. He'd pull out of his coma and she'd smile tearfully and tell him how much she loved him and how worried she was and how sorry she was then his sister would wake up and say this was such a touching moment and then Beth would walk in laughing.<p>

"Gina, I have to say, I saw this coming since the moment I joined our team and met you two. You were staring at your now-husband's butt, rather blatantly admiring the view, and he was telling me about how flexible you are. It was obvious to me then that you would wind up together, singing cheesy love songs every night after you finish watching old movies, like Godfather 3. It's not considered the best one, but you are the best for each other, and it fills me with such unbelievable joy I might just end my life it's too much happiness for me to know that you two are now happily married. I'm fully aware you will never part from the other's side and it's so wonderful to know you love each other enough to suddenly get married as a sign of your eternal devotion. Hope you're enjoying the honeymoon in London and that obscene ring he lovingly bought you!"

The Brit wasn't sure if the content of her post or the fact it had over 300 likes was worse.

He turned to Gina, who by this point had snapped out of her angry daze and was fixated on him, eyes burning into his soul. She was mad, and rightfully so. This had turned into something way bigger than he thought it would. It was supposed to be a little prank that she changed back after five minutes, but instead her efforts to reverse his edits were marked as spam and forcibly changed back by Facebook. She couldn't even update that this was a joke by Mick without people wondering who the guy hacking her Facebook to post those statuses was.

Even worse, his old Interpol buddies were starting to check their Facebooks, and the mass of traumatized women who were having a group cry that the bachelor was now apparently happily married wouldn't stop texting him. They were obnoxious enough that he really couldn't be bothered to inform them of the truth. It wasn't like any of them would actually be significant in his life anymore and they were more of a hassle thinking he was available than anything else.

Mick put on his 'my sister's in a coma oh man how is this happening to me' face and the blonde calmed immediately. He was safe from disaster again, if only temporarily.

She smiled softly, reaching out to stroke the side of his face. They pulled into a half-hug, the Brit quite content to be held by his attractive coworker, especially if it meant getting her sympathy instead of rage. He really did appreciate her comforting gestures, regardless of his efforts to stay out of trouble. It was hard enough dealing with knowing he couldn't do a single thing to help his sister, but having the blonde there, wrapping her slender arms around him like she'd never let go, was a big help.

Gina pulled back from his chest slightly, enough that she could speak without his shirt muffling her, "Do you want to talk about her? Tell me what she was like?"

The blonde looked so sympathetic and sincere that despite his reclusive tendencies, he had to oblige. Plus it would keep her anger at bay.

"Sure, love. What do you say we find somewhere nice to spend the day and I'll tell you what she's like when she isn't… like this."

"We can stop and I'll buy some things for a picnic. I assume you know a nice, scenic park to take me to," she grinned, nuzzling her head into his upper chest comfortingly.

"Of course. Someplace special, out of the way, so nobody I know can find me. Maybe somewhere closed, off limits to everyone but an ex-Special Forces sniper and his dazzlingly gorgeous female companion, where nobody will interrupt them should they choose to get up close and physical…"

"Dream on, _love_. Just because you locked my Facebook into saying we're married doesn't mean you're getting any kind of a reward. But I do want to hear about your sister, so you think of whatever remote place you want while we walk to the car and then you focus on driving."

"You're a doll, you know that?" he smiled appreciatively, pulling her into a side hug as they walked. She allowed her arm to snake around his abdomen, reciprocating the gesture, and they walked away, Beth's widely-popular wall post safely out of mind.

* * *

><p>Sam Cooper sunk lower into his uncomfortable airline seat. Only a few days ago, two of his agents had been in this same position, but flying the opposite direction. They didn't tell him they were pretending to be married to get on the same plane, but after that he guessed they'd told the same lie to the hospital to get around the 'family members only' rule.<p>

Maybe sending Gina wasn't the best decision. It was from the standpoint Mick hadn't been smashed off his face when he went planking, which meant he was feeling cheerful enough to sneak her into Big Ben and do something stupidly funny, but on the other hand, she wasn't doing much to _keep_ him from doing stuff like this.

The black man sighed. He should have just bought them a calling card so they could talk every day, instead of letting the Welshman run around trying to impress her or convince her he wasn't getting too depressed by the situation. Now that they were alone, he really couldn't control them. Sure, Mick would listen to the blonde if she really forced the issue, but she always tease-flirted with him. She never _did_ force the issue.

It was only then he realized a precedent had never been set for either behaving properly around the other.

Then again, Mick had a soft spot for Gina. While he'd push Beth and Prophet and try to grind their gears, he wouldn't intentionally poke and prod at the blonde until she snapped. He might do incredibly dumb things, like hacking her Facebook, but the Brit would never hurt her.

This Facebook mess warranted a talking-to when Mick got back. Beth and Gina had been scolded for hacking into his, which the he didn't know about and probably thought they'd gone unpunished despite rebranding him Minnie the transsexual.

Cooper would permit the younger duo to get Beth back, as from what he understood, it was _all_ her idea and Gina was simply a victim of not stopping her. And suggesting they try to get Prophet in on it with the engagement.

Then there was the matter of his team's bet. If Mick and Gina actually _did_ come back married, Penelope would be two thousand richer and Coop would have some serious paperwork and explaining to do. Fickler would probably not be pleased. His team _was_ above the no relationships regulation, but it wasn't a very good idea to spring a full blown marriage onto the director of the FBI.

However, either Fickler didn't know about Facebookgate yet, or he simply didn't care what the agents did anymore on their virtual profiles.

Gina's father, on the other hand, had been less than amused. He called Cooper, demanding an explanation for why his daughter was overseas, alone, with the Brit. Cooper calmly explained she was there to provide moral support for a man whose little sister could possibly never wake up. The hack he'd made up some excuse that she was letting him have some fun to keep his spirits high, and people's friends hacked them all the time for some silly little edits. The man had been reluctant to accept this, but his anger subsided for the moment.

Gina was still the screw-up daughter in her father's mind, even though nobody else on the team was remotely qualified to accompany Mick and that made her better than the rest of them.

Fortunately, it didn't much matter to the Brit what his coworker's father thought. She was perfect to Mick and that was the only important thing.

* * *

><p>So now everyone from the show has made an appearance and had any decent amount of lines. Who will win the bet? Penelope or Beth and Prophet? Tell me what you think in the reviews.. that ending is already decided (but you don't get to know until it happens), so I won't change it up. Will Mick and Gina come back actually married or not? You'll just have to keep reading!<p>

And what did everyone think of the team/Cooper scenes, as opposed to the usual shenanigans we see?


	8. In Which Birds are Angry

Hey all, back with another chapter! I knew how I wanted this one to end, and I had the first chunk done, and I knew a scene I wanted to include, but getting it to my usual word count proved tricky to think of the in-between. Fortunately I did work and now we have Chapter 8! Can you guys believe Suspect Covers was only 3 more chapters but this one is nowhere near being done? Should've put a longfic disclaimer LOL.

Speaking of.. **Disclaimer**: unlike what some intelligent reviewers hope, CMSB has not yet been sold off to us writers. So it remains, not mine.

Thanks to my reviewers as always for leaving your thoughts and to all my readers for sticking with the story! The ridiculous scenarios are pretty much gone but the funny will still stick around. You guys are fabulous!

* * *

><p>Mick sat gracefully on the bench, across from his blonde companion. True to his word, he had been able to locate a park that was currently closed off for the season, but of course, an ex-Special Forces sniper was certainly able to take a tour with his dashing American girl.<p>

He was still getting congratulations about the marriage. People who knew him were spreading the word to people who knew of him. He fancied this was what being a celebrity felt like. Everyone knows everything about your life, whether it's true or not. Thankfully, Gina was taking it in stride. She would likely be a lot less considerate if his sister wasn't in a coma. Or if they were back in DC and she had the Terrible Twins nagging at her whenever Cooper was out of earshot.

As far as he knew, she hadn't been able to permanently change anything, which meant every little edit he'd made was still there. Even his attempts to delete the relationship status and set himself as 'single' again were thwarted. Facebook's lockdown was getting to be slightly ridiculous.

Gina was such a good sport. Beth would be slowly tearing his finger nails out by this point, not that he would have changed all her information to be slobbering about himself. No, the privilege of being, at least on Facebook, Mrs. Rawson was Gina's alone. Hacking Prophet's to something the same wouldn't even be funny for the Brit.

Besides, his dearly beloved coworkers had already taken care of _that_ edit.

He reached over to pull the bag of freshly smoked fish onto the tablecloth Gina had just finished smoothing out across the surface. He'd noticed she had an odd obsession with smooth surfaces and wondered if as a child she'd been in charge of making sure napkins and towels were always folded and laid out to military standards.

Mick paused in his task of extracting the fresh bread they'd bought from its wrapping to stare at her. England was notable for dreary weather, but the tiny ray of sunlight breaking through the cloud cover seemed to be focused on the blonde, illuminating her. Her hair appeared to glow as she fiddled with the silverware she'd pulled from Jenna's flat, a slight smile on her face. She was oddly content, and it occurred to him perhaps this was her ideal date scenario. A nice picnic lunch somewhere exclusive but outdoors, almost breaking the rules yet not, because her man had a certain sway with the local law enforcement.

Normally it would have been her father, or another member of her family, that pulled the strings. It was probably nice for her to not have to use her own last name (not that she was going by it) to get anywhere. Londoners likely wouldn't have even heard of her father, so here, off in England, an ocean away from her family, she was simply Gina 'Rawson', the supposed wife of some renowned sniper.

She placed the silverware onto the table, finally looking up at him. An almost unnoticeable blush tinted her cheeks as she shyly smiled, lifting her legs over the bench of the table to sit down, everything now set out as she wanted it. Her shoulders shrugged, silently asking him what he was looking at, while she went to work cutting the bread into the proper slices.

"Just you, love, and how happy you look to be out here relaxing, away from your family and everyone else. My phone doesn't even have data service this far from London. Nobody can bother you, well, except me, but I _never_ bother you…"

She laughed, though she tried to swallow it, and her smile widened, "Oh, never, certainly not when you go telling everyone we're happily married."

"It was bound to happen someday."

"Was it? That's funny, I never noticed."

"Love you wound me at times with your indifference."

The blonde giggled, reaching to grasp his hand when she finished the bread, "It's a good thing your massive ego always knows I'm kidding, huh?"

It occurred to him this was very intimate, sitting here, all alone in the countryside, joking about their fake marriage and the likelihood it'd become real. It wasn't really what he did, go out on picnics with pretty girls he worked with and would be working with for the foreseeable future and thus had to stay on good terms with. They were technically partners to boot, because Cooper wanted both girls of the team to be assigned by default to a male companion, as precautions against strong assailants that could overpower one or two women on their own, but not a fully-grown man who worked out. That wasn't to say Beth and Gina never went off on their own, if the situation called for it or was safe.

He smirked back, but his brain wasn't fully in it. The toll of the past few days was gaining on him; combined with the tranquil environment they were sitting in, he just couldn't muster his usual hot shot attitude. She didn't seem to mind, normally she might think it was a sign of deep, emotional trauma, but now she was likely just glad he was in good spirits.

And trying hard not to ruin a tender moment.

"Of course. It's what we do as a team, kid around. Make stupid Facebook edits then realize we can't change them back and get stuck with an international situation. I really am sorry for this, love."

"I blame the site for being so stupid I couldn't change anything. My friend list controls more of my profile than I do. I'm not happy about this and you will owe me big time long after this trip is over, but I do forgive you."

"Your generosity amazes even me, oh fairest princess of my kingdom."

Gina blushed, visibly this time, at the compliment. She dropped her eyes back to her plate, warily eying the potato salad. It had been a struggle to get her to agree to purchase it already made at the deli they'd stopped at, as she'd suspiciously scanned the ingredients list several times over, looking for abnormal contents compared to an American recipe.

This was nice. He could do this, day in and day out; or at least when they weren't busy living off rushes to catch serial killers before they took another life. Mick Rawson had never been one for sweet dates like this, gentle moments and soft caresses following tenderly-held gazes into the other's eye. But with his charming, blonde coworker, all bets were off.

How to tell her would be tricky. She might think he was simply clinging for emotional support regarding his sister, or that he wanted a new challenge to overcome in the form of a woman obviously attracted to him who hadn't fallen to lick his feet when he pulled out the cockily flirty wink and smirk.

It would take a while; he didn't even want anything with her until Jenna was better. Once his sister was properly recovered from her accident, Gina would be content to believe he had a genuine interest in her not simply because they'd been thrown together, overseas, all alone, to cope with a traumatizing event to his kid sister.

After that? The blonde would never be taking his ring off.

* * *

><p>Mick leaned back against a tree a ways from the clearing with picnic tables, relishing in what appeared to be the lone spot in the area that had a data signal. He loaded Facebook, pleased to see the obnoxiously never-ending stream of notifications was finally slowing. The text messages and missed calls, on the other hand, were still flowing in, but he didn't care to check them. None were from the hospital.<p>

Gina was cleaning the table off, packing things back into the car. He'd warily left her the keys, half-expecting her to leave him stranded as revenge. Then again, that was something Prophet would (and had) done; the blonde would be much more subtle about getting him back. She certainly wouldn't dump him in the wilderness when his sister was in a coma and he might need to rush to her side.

No, she wasn't that mean. That's what worried him: whatever she would do, if anything, would be a lot harder to predict. She might just call fair's fair regarding Facebook hacks, and the diamond necklace he still had to buy her. And if he let her keep the ring, she should definitely be content. Gina would deal with her father thinking she was a screw-up; a screw-up with a hundred thousand dollar ring.

That reminded him he still had to collect some old debts from his Interpol and Special Forces friends. That would give the Brit more than enough to pay off the ring entirely, and buy a necklace. Perhaps it was time to start answering his texts.

First, he figured he should drop his e-wife a friendly wall post. Nothing to get him in further trouble, just a polite 'thanks for being here'. Sure, people would take it out of context regardless, but she'd probably appreciate a bit of recognition for her efforts. She was unable to text or call anyone and her Facebook was a mess; about the only thing she could do was play Angry Birds on his phone.

He had to beat that level for her. She still wasn't past it and they'd had ample time for her to try. That was likely why she wasn't a sniper and he was. Oh well, he figured, it takes all kinds.

"Hey love, just wanted to say how nice it is to have you with me across the ocean. I really enjoy spending time with you, eating out was fun."

Or, at least, that's what he thought he said.

Unbeknownst to the Brit, who didn't bother to reread what he'd written, his iPhone autocorrected 'spending time' to 'sleeping'. He must have accidentally hit the autocomplete that suggested 'sleeping' and continued typing, not noticing the alteration.

Content with his sweet message, Mick closed Facebook and opened Angry Birds.

His eyes narrowed. This level made absolutely no sense, it was no wonder Gina was having difficulty. She struggled to get three stars on the rest of the stages, as if she'd be able to pass this one.

But Mick Rawson was not to be bested by a couple of ugly, green pigs sneering at him with partially-broken smiles. Oh no. He was going to bash them all in, all seven of them, with just one bird. He'd do it for his Facebook wife and be her hero, her white knight in shining armor, her non-dying Romeo. The list went on.

An hour later he shouted, launching a flock of birds in the tree above him out of the sky. Mick threw his phone after them, gleefully jumping to his feet in success, then realized he'd just chucked his phone at a bunch of real life angry birds and it was now soaring towards a rock.

He sighed and slumped back to the ground, back grating against the tree, watching his phone's collision course with a boulder unfold.

Then it stopped.

Gina straightened herself from leaning over to catch the phone, shaking her head at the Brit, who looked ready to suffer heart failure. He hadn't noticed her walking up or anywhere near, though he observed she was panting fairly hard and had likely come running when he screamed, saw the phone racing to destruction, and decided to save the day.

He shrugged, a stupid grin on his face, knowing he'd been dumb to get so wound up about a game in which you fling fat little birds at hard objects. She'd understand, though, so he explained, "I beat that level you were stuck on, love. The Angry Birds one. Took me this whole while but I'm past it. You can play, I'll take a bit of a rest here then we can do whatever you'd like."

"Sounds good. If a giant spider crawls onto you I'll throw your phone at it," she teased, sitting down almost beside him, propped up against another tree right by his. The blonde was soon engrossed in the game, staring intently at the screen while she carefully aimed her shots, sniffing disdainfully when she didn't pass a level and silently pumping her fists when she did. Even if it was just with one star. Mick had fallen into a light sleep soon after she started playing, his head dropping to the side in her direction as if pulled to her.

Gina pulled the slingshot back and watched as one of the black bomb birds flew into the building, carefully timing her explosion. She tapped the screen and grimaced as the press didn't register and the bird blew up at the wrong time. His iPhone was utter trash at recognizing her delicate touches, but her phone didn't have a global contract and there was no point in carrying it around with her all day in the hopes of having a few moments of down time to play Angry Birds.

Especially when he was so many levels ahead of her.

She had to admit, the Brit did have certain talents. Being an annoyingly immature twit was one of them, but crazy-accurate aim was another. Gina supposed the two evened each other out, as did all the pros and cons to her partner. At the level completed screen the blonde paused to glance up at him, somewhat peacefully asleep. It looked like he was having an unpleasant dream by the frown on his face, and she was about to reach over and wake him up when his phone began ringing, simultaneously with his dream changing and his lips curving up into a smile.

Deciding to let him sleep, she stood up, walked a bit away and answered, "Mick Rawson's phone."

"Hello, it's St Mary's, my name is Bindu, I'm one of the nurses working with Mr. Rawson's sister. Are you family?" the woman on the other end asked, spitting her words out in an efficient but warm manner.

"Uh, yeah, I'm his wife. Is there news on Jenna?" the blonde replied; she had been about to say no, they weren't exactly family, then she remembered the marriage ruse that allowed her to get certain information a pretty friend wouldn't.

"Yes, ma'am. If you could tell your husband promptly he should come to the hospital he'd probably appreciate that."

"Is something the matter?"

"Unfortunately, his sister took a turn for the worse. He needs to come say his goodbyes."

* * *

><p>Uh oh! Things aren't looking good for Jenna. How will this turn out? You'll just have to review and ask me to update in a timely manner to find out! Thanks for reading as always and remember to click the button below to leave your feedbackopinion on the story.


	9. In Which Talking is a Poor Idea

HEY I'm back with Chapter Nine! I admit I had some difficulty writing this because it's sad and I don't like sad ): sad things shouldn't happen to good fictional characters it's not nice ok! I was about to write one night then I wrote one line and realized the next part was really too tragic for my cheery self to finish. BUT I know you all were dying to see what happened and I made you wait a week, I know I'm terrible ugh, so I got it done.

**Disclaimer**: deed to the show still hasn't been signed over yet.

As always, thanks to my loyal readers and reviewers - glad you guys are liking the story. And to my parallel-universe-dwelling reviewer, RICHkardo, I feel very honored you quested across the dimensions to take part in my fanfic of a one-and-done canceled spinoff due to network degeneracy over shoddy trashy rubbish that should never have been created but instead takes poor CMSB's airspace. Cough cough. More descriptive tangents just for you, and of course, more autocorrect!

* * *

><p><em>"Is something the matter?"<em>

_"Unfortunately, his sister took a turn for the worse. He needs to come say his goodbyes."_

Gina blinked in shock; surely this nurse was calling the wrong person, or something. Finally she replied to the woman, hesitantly and hushing her voice so Mick wouldn't wake up, "Are you sure? You didn't call the wrong Mick Rawson or look at the wrong chart?"

Bindu seemed annoyed, judging by the sharp inhale on the other end of the line. She promptly regained her sympathetic persona, however, "I'm sorry, there's no mistake. She has only a few more hours, give her brother my condolences."

The nurse hung up, leaving Gina holding the iPhone and wondering how to approach this. Mick was still asleep, which meant he hadn't heard and could have the news broken to him properly without assuming anything. However, he was the only one who could drive to the hospital – her license and registration to the rental car weren't entirely in order for England, plus she'd have a terribly difficult time navigating the unfamiliar streets on the wrong side of the road. He wouldn't be in any condition to drive thinking about his sister's quickly-closing last breath, though, meaning she had to get him to the hospital without telling him why and hope he wasn't too upset with her.

What possible reason could she have for wanting to promptly stop at the hospital? That entailed waking him up and forcing him to leave earlier than he'd probably have hoped to, all without a very good explanation.

Hopefully he trusted her enough.

"Mick, wake up sleeping beauty, time to go!" she called out, poking him firmly in the arm as he jumped from the sudden noise.

"Why so early?" he groaned, leaning back against the tree to push himself off the ground.

"Oh, I just thought we should go by and see your sister. They said frequent contact could help her and it's been a few hours since we left," Gina innocently suggested, hoping he was a bit too drowsy to try profiling her actions. Fortunately, the Brit didn't bother to question her and stood up fully, stretching as he walked towards the car.

The blonde followed behind in silence, hoping he wouldn't ask too many questions. He'd been in good spirits before, all things considered, and if he got too chatty she might let slip what was happening to his sister. Cooper deserved to know, but she could call him on Mick's phone once they'd arrived, giving Mick some time alone with his sister.

She climbed into the car beside him, smiling cheerily. He returned it with a flirty grin, raising an eyebrow and starting the vehicle, leaving the picnic table behind.

"I left you a little wall post. Nothing bad, I promise. You ought to check it, love," he tossed out, winking as he turned a corner. Gina nodded compliantly and opened the app, logging off his account and into hers.

There was a bizarre quantity of notifications about his wall post, which was odd. Sure, some people might be congratulating her on such a 'nice find' if he was dropping compliments but this was eerily high for 'nothing bad'. She clicked, only for the weak signal the phone had to die.

"Your homeland needs better cell service, _sweetie_," she scowled, holding it closer to the roof of the car and waiting for the phone to regain data.

"America does too, out in the sticks, where nobody really goes. I mean it's not like people drive an hour out of London to update their stock portfolio and have a video chat," Mick chuckled, smirking at her annoyance with the phone. He didn't realize it was due to her curiosity as to all the comments, not having checked his own account since he'd made the post.

Boy was he in for a surprise.

Several minutes and angry glares later, the poor iPhone finally found its data signal once again, blissfully oblivious to the content its glassy screen was about to display. If it had known and been able to consider the possible reactions of the profiler, perhaps it would have permanently disconnected from the data server to avoid any ill-directed rage.

Gina looked down at the screen once the entire post had loaded, iPhone valiantly struggling to piece together the pixels it was receiving at a sluggish rate, and almost screamed.

"Hey love, just wanted to say how nice it is to have you with me across the ocean. I really enjoy sleeping with you, eating out was fun."

Sleeping with? Was that his idea of a 'nice' comment, saying their nonexistent sex was fun? If he thought this was charming she was going to shove his phone up his…

"Load yet?" he asked eagerly, eyes lacking any mischievous glimmer. It was possible he wasn't aware he'd said 'sleeping' instead of something else, though she couldn't think of an obvious autocorrect off the top of her head.

"Yes, that was… sweet," she nearly spat out, trying to force a polite tone, all the while glaring daggers at the screen. He started to ramble on about how he was glad she appreciated it and he really was enjoying her company and on and on, but all she could do was scroll through the comments, blushing at some of the more vulgar jokes.

Of _course_, right after something like 'sleeping with' he said 'eating out'. Numerous males had pointed that out, having a good laugh, while several of her female friends were a bit astonished he'd be so upfront about their sex life. Some even asked if he was good at it.

What a mess.

And with his sister, you know, _dying_, it wasn't like she could go off on a rage at him about it, especially if it was a typo. He'd feel bad enough already when he discovered she hadn't told him immediately, and that there was less than a day before his sister left for the afterlife.

"So did you want to go to The Savory Grille tonight? I mean if you're not feeling up to it or if you think it's _too much_ and too fancy that's fine, I understand of course, but it's rather upscale and would be perfect to show off that darling necklace I bought…"

Suddenly she realized he had asked her a question. Gina missed almost everything else he said, and he was apparently repeating himself. There was the slight problem that his sister was on her last leg and he'd be too upset for dinner at a fancy restaurant, but he didn't know about that yet and would be hurt if she declined.

"Oh, I wouldn't make a reservation yet, but it sounds fine if we're up to it," she replied after much thought, putting on yet another forced smile and delicately batting her eyelashes. He still wasn't noticing anything odd, or at least commenting on it; a small blessing.

"Right, right. We won't leave until we do, though. And I still have more places to show you, it being your first time and all. In London, that is."

"Speaking of, I wasn't aware we were sleeping together."

"When did I bloody say we were?"

"Facebook."

He was silent, apparently trying very hard to remember when he said it, "Now if this is about the mass edit, love, we've gone over that…"

"Actually it was in your wall post."

"Oh come off it, don't lie, I distinctly remember typing 'spending time with you', 'eating out' and something about it was nice having you along."

"Autocorrect?"

Mick thought long and hard, attempting to piece together the circumstances that would have allowed his phone to swap a word or phrase to anything sexual. Then it clicked, "It changed 'spending time' to 'sleeping', didn't it? Bloody stupid ingrate of a phone, I can only imagine the comments you got for that one."

"As usual, everyone believed it. I'm not sure it's even worth trying to correct, if you didn't intend to."

"I really wasn't trying to be more of a prick, love. My mistake for thinking Apple could do a bloody thing right."

She smiled.

* * *

><p>Gina still wasn't sure how to break the news as she watched Mick step away from the car, turning around when he realized she wasn't beside him like usual. His usual flirty grin made an appearance, as if he was asking if she liked the view, but the blonde only shrugged and finally opened her door, following him inside the hospital.<p>

He was a ways ahead of her and she sped up to catch him before any nurses could. It would look very suspicious if she had his phone at the time and had randomly insisted they go to the hospital right after his sister went downhill. If he was upset enough he might even ditch her at the hospital, leaving her stranded in a city she knew nothing about, with no phone or means of getting back to where they were staying, not that she could even get into Jenna's flat.

Mick wouldn't do that, would he? Abandon her for not telling him upfront his sister was dying? She sure hoped not, or if he did in the heat of the moment he'd soon be back for her, upset but apologetic he'd stormed off. Should he never come back, well, Gina didn't even want to consider that.

Unfortunately, right as she reached out to grab his arm, one of the nurses who had occasionally been checking Jenna's vitals stopped him and Gina stood frozen, listening as the nurse spouted off her condolences about the ever-nearing death of his sister.

The Brit went rigid, forcing a somewhat-polite 'thanks for the pity', before sparing his fellow profiler a bitter glare. Their eyes made contact for not even a second before hers dropped to the floor and his head jerked back around while he stormed off. The nurse realized he likely didn't know yet, and apologetically sighed, giving Gina's arm a tender brush before trotting off to deal with another family.

Her partner was already around the corner before the blonde could even take one step; he was without a doubt angrily marching to get away from her, possibly not even caring if people easily recognized he was furious with someone. Out of the corner of her eye, Gina noticed a rather familiar hat and glanced sharply at the older woman from earlier in their trip, who sipped a cup of tea disdainfully as she frowned. Obviously the busybody still recognized the pair, and wasn't fond of either.

Gina scowled at her then hustled off, hoping to catch Mick before he decided to lock her out of Jenna's room. Sure, she could get a doctor or security guard to unlock the door, but they'd been enough trouble for the local law, not to mention the sniper would be even more upset with her.

Of _course_ he'd promptly hopped out of the car and sped off before she could tell him, not that there hadn't been ample time before he had parked the car. It was partially her own fault for not speaking up before, but the Brit hadn't given her any chance to explain after the news was broken.

At least she knew where he would be, for a bit anyways. Faithfully by his sister's side, upset she was leaving him well before her time. And fuming at the blonde for not bothering to let him know.

She finally reached Jenna's room and peeped her head around the window, warily looking in to see where the Brit was. He could have been waiting for her to walk in so he could punch her out if he was angry enough, but instead she, thankfully, found him kneeling by Jenna's bed, hands locked around her frail left hand, saying something to her by the way his head was moving.

Did she dare to go in? The door didn't appear to have been tampered with, so he either didn't think to forcibly lock it or he didn't want to. The iPhone was in his pocket, which left her with nothing to do except find a chair and sit outside the room, inevitably earning her awkward glances and nosy questions. She could always return to the waiting room and do nothing but read a British magazine, still garnering bothersome stares, and hope he didn't sneak out the back of the hospital.

Then she noticed his body was shaking – the poor man was crying. Regardless of how he was currently feeling about the blonde, Mick needed a friend. And she _was_ there for comfort.

Gina knocked on the window, lightly but firm enough he'd be able to hear. After a few moments, discreetly spent trying to dry his face so whoever was there wouldn't see him crying, he turned around, only to narrow his eyes and swing his head right back to Jenna.

She sighed. Of course he wouldn't be happy to see her, and she couldn't barge in if he refused to want her there. The thing was, he needed someone there, it wasn't fair to make him go through the grieving alone simply because she hadn't known how to tell him.

That left the puppy-dog pout. It was a low move, though she was pretty certain he'd used it on her a few times this trip, but entirely effective. The one time Beth had tried it on Prophet, who was forcefully declining finishing all her paperwork so she could go to a Duran Duran concert (the brunette had apparently been quite the groupie in her younger days), he'd been so traumatized by the tragic expression he'd agreed to do her work for three days.

The blonde never used it herself, though. Usually a stern glare was enough to get Mick and Prophet in line, but in this case, it just might be time to deploy a cute girl's secret weapon.

Shaking slightly from the hits, the window resounded against her hand, and she waited for the Brit to turn back around. He didn't, so she knocked again; then a third time after he still refused to acknowledge her. Finally he whipped to face her, an angry, tear-stained glare on his face, but he locked up when he took in… the puppy-dog pout.

His resolve to stay angry at her was no match for her sorrowful, kicked-puppy expression, and his entire figure slumped. Apparently, being upset at her was the only thing keeping him from completely breaking down, and as he slowly rotated back to his sister, she opened the door, swiftly shutting it and closing the distance between them.

She pulled over the plastic chair, sitting next to her partner, keeping her distance for the moment. He may have given her permission to enter, but that didn't mean he was ready for her to get involved at the moment.

Gina watched, reclining against the hard, white plastic, giving him space. She tuned out what he was whispering to Jenna, knowing it wasn't for her to hear, instead contemplating how to tell Cooper, or if she even should. Mick might want to break the news himself.

A pause in his muffled, teary goodbyes snapped her back to the present, and she took the chance to reach over and tenderly stroke his arm, attempting to ask how he was, but he cut her off.

"Don't. Just don't talk," the Brit spat, tensing as he focused back on his sister. The blonde obliged and backed off again, recognizing this couldn't be easy for him and if he wanted to deal with Jenna's death this way, who was she to trouble him?

Letting her fingers trail down his arm, she dropped them swiftly into his pocket and extracted the phone, though he didn't seem to notice. She glanced briefly at the time before loading Angry Birds, seeing nothing better to do while she waited for the sniper to want her to take a more active role in comforting him.

An hour and some very angry birds later, Gina smiled, having watched the Brit slowly begin to lean towards her, as if he was seeking her out. The phone was stuffed into her pocket while she stood and moved to slip her arms around him. Mick cocked his head against hers, not bothering to say anything as he kept his eyes trained on Jenna.

"Mick…"

"I said don't say anything," he sharply hissed, pulling away slightly, but there was no bitterness behind his words – he simply wanted silence. She obeyed his request, instead dragging the chair with her leg and sitting back down, tugging him up and into her lap. He still had a firm grip on his sister, but it was a bit more comfortable than kneeling, and his knees were already going to be sore.

Whether he even recognized the shift, she wasn't sure, but they remained quiet and still for another hour or so, Gina had lost track of time with her arms wrapped around the Brit. It was an awful thought to have at the moment but he was really quite sculpted and she had to stop her hands from roaming, caressing his muscular but lean chest. He probably wouldn't appreciate being felt up, all things considered.

Finally he began squirming slightly, seeming to zone back in to where he was and what was going on. His grasp on Jenna's hand loosened, as though his arms had been stiffening up and needed to be stretched slightly. The blonde figured now was a fairly good time to try speaking to him again, as it didn't appear he had any intention of beginning conversation himself.

"Hey, Mick, how…"

"What don't you understand about _don't talk_?" the Brit scowled, whirling off her lap to stand, glaring at her. He was almost snarling and out of instinct, Gina stood up, backing away as he closed in.

"You don't, you just, don't get what, be quiet," he spat, though his phrases were jumbled and disjointed, accent thick. She opened her mouth to respond, likely not the best move, because he took that opportunity to strike.

Gina gasped when she felt his tongue slam into her mouth, the sniper's lips covering hers as he roughly pulled her smaller frame to his. She barely even fought, thrown off by his sudden shift in irritated aggression to aggressive affection.

This was a terrible idea and she shouldn't be fervently kissing him back. Every logical fiber in her body screamed to shove him back, but the kiss was just _so good_ that she couldn't even consider resisting. He was obviously still angry, and devastated, and just seeking an outlet for his emotions – there was nothing tender in the actions, simply a rough, charged, and incredibly hot make-out session.

Just how far would this lead, she wondered, as her leg pushed off the ground on its own accord to wrap around his waist. It was highly questionable to have angry comfort sex in a hospital with his dying sister _right there_, but on the other hand, he was doing amazing things to her in his rage.

She had concluded that she absolutely would do nothing to stop him – if Mick wanted to shove her against the sterilized white wall and bang her senseless because he couldn't handle this, then by all means, he was welcome to do so – when a shaky, timid voice froze them both.

"Big brother?"

* * *

><p>A voice! What could this mean? You'll just have to wait for next chapter - certainly a more light-hearted adventure. Or maybe not... things could turn even worse. Am I that mean to fictional characters? Honestly probably not I get too sad at tragic endings but you never know. Review to find out.. or at least provide some feedback on how things are going, you'll find out regardless lol. But it is nice to know people are eagerly anticipating the next update.. helps me to churn them out at a decent sort of rate. Thanks for reading and as always, hope you enjoyed!<p> 


	10. In Which Someone Wakes Up

Whoohoo, next chapter is UP! I admit I have a harder time writing the less-hilarious scenes and getting inspiration for the next part of the immediate story, but, for you guys I get it done. Now the big reveal - what's the voice mean? I'm sure you were all DYING to know, terrible pun forgive me please!

**Disclaimer**: not mine.. YET!

As always, thanks to everyone for reading and especially reviewing, glad to hear there's folks really enjoying the story, I love hearing your thoughts so keep leaving them!

* * *

><p>The second his dying sister's voice rang out in the cool room, trumpeting over the beeps of the machinery keeping her alive, Mick had shoved the blonde against the wall, somewhat accidentally, in his haste to turn and flung himself to his sister's side.<p>

Gina stumbled as she tried to regain her footing, watching the scene before her, though it was a bit of a haze. Debatably, this was either Jenna's last moment alive or she had miraculously gotten better, and whichever, the American profiler wasn't supposed to be there for it. The British girl wouldn't even know she was there.

_Boys Don't Cry_ briefly played through her head as she watched her partner begin to break down in tears, clutching his sister's hands as though holding onto them would hold onto her life. But that song wasn't true, because here was one of the most ruggedly handsome tough guys in her life letting the drops slide down his face. Maybe they only cried where they felt safe, which either meant he felt safe around her or had entirely forgotten she existed.

Tentatively, she fingered her ring, sliding it back and forth against the two digits on either side. His phone was still in her pocket, meaning she had something to do besides spy on the pair through the window. Gina began slowly backing up towards the door, ready to quietly make her exit and let the siblings talk in peace, but the brunette woman noticed her first, apparently quite curious about her white-walled surroundings.

"Mick, who'd you bring?" she softly asked, though the Brit didn't sound upset at the other woman being there. Rather, she was simply curious; and decidedly not dead. Perhaps the diagnosis had been wrong, and Jenna would make a full recovery after all. Her choppy brown hair was a mess from lying unwashed in the hospital bed and she looked half-starved without makeup on, eyes hollowed out, but the grasp she had on her brother's hands was almost stronger than his.

The male profiler didn't even turn around, perhaps he was still mad at the blonde, or he simply knew she would be there behind him, but Gina stepped forward regardless, and she saw the smirk on Jenna's face as she toyed with the gold band on Mick's left hand. He appeared to be blushing as his sister grinned, eyes darting to Gina's ring finger once she walked into view.

"Oh, this is just Gina, we work together…" Mick tried to explain, but his sister's unconvinced glare silenced him, so he blurted out, "Alright we pretended to be married to sit together on the plane over, I swear, Jen, we work together. We're not actually…"

"You'd lie to your own sister, dying on a hospital bed?" Jenna gasped mockingly, but her brother's eyes darkened as he told her that wasn't funny. The blonde could tell this was going downhill fast as he was still upset with her and the whole situation, so she quickly cut in.

"Hi Jenna, I'm Gina, your new sister-in-law. We do work together but more importantly, we're married. It was a recent thing but we're _very happy_ together," she placed emphasis on the last bit, nudging Mick, hoping he'd get the memo to simply go along with it. Like pretty much everyone else, even a girl who'd just woken from a coma refused to believe they weren't together. He shot her a glare but the blonde's steely, narrowed eyes silenced his retort.

He looked ready to say something, probably along the lines of 'please go away now', but a doctor rushed in, followed by two nurses, their eyes wide with shock as they checked Jenna's vitals. They asked the pair to leave, but Mick insisted on staying. The doctor's stare moved from profiler to profiler and Gina quickly stepped back, passing through the doorway and standing against the opposite wall to give them room.

She pulled out the iPhone and returned to Angry Birds, allowing Mick more time with his sister while the nurses tried to figure out why exactly she was awake.

* * *

><p>After several difficult levels, all three of which Mick had beaten long ago likely on his first effort, the British man finally walked out of the room, looking the happiest he'd been since they'd rescued an abducted little girl a week before he'd answered the mysterious call from London. The doctor had left a while before, speaking with one of the nurses, while the other had remained behind to assess how long before Jenna would be safe to leave. She exited with Mick, chatting him up, though he seemed oblivious to her flirtations.<p>

In fact, he seemed oblivious to everything, walking right past Gina, who paused and exited the game when she noticed, before he realized she was standing there and turned around, beckoning her to follow. The nurse finally realized he wasn't interested in the slightest and shot off down another corridor.

"They want to keep her overnight, but they said she's going to be fine. They can't explain how she woke up or why she got better, just that she did and now she'll be alright. Isn't that wonderful?" he gleefully exclaimed, stopping in the middle of the hall to look at her, but the lack of 'love' at the end of his question didn't go unnoticed.

"Oh Mick, I'm so happy she'll be okay. You must be so relieved she'll recover. Look, I should have told you, I know, I wanted to, but how do you break that to someone? And you had to drive with a clear mind, so I'm sorry I didn't…"

"It's alright, I understand. Jenna's gonna be back in action tomorrow so you know what, love, it doesn't really matter what you did. No hard feelings. Now, how about that fancy dinner, eh? I think we've got something to celebrate."

He seemed to have completely forgotten their impromptu make out session, and she didn't overly want to bring it back up, so she went with it, "Shouldn't we wait for your sister?"

"Nah, she hates those ritzy, upscale joints. She quite gladly told me to go tonight, you know, _just us_," he smirked, eyebrows waggling. Perhaps it hadn't slipped his mind after all, so he was taking the next step; though his approach might have been a bit backwards – claiming to be married, buying rings, Facebook edits, rage kissing and then nice restaurant dates.

"It'd be quite rude of me to decline your offer, I suppose, so I'll have to take you up on it."

The Brit grinned and looped his arm through hers, escorting the blonde back out to their rental car, a previously-absent bounce in his step.

If this was life with happy-Mick, she could get used to it.

* * *

><p>"And, so then, get this, she takes my test <em>from my hands<em> and rips it in two, shouting I _must_ have slept with a nerd and had him take it for me, because there was no way I could ever get twice her score on an Advanced Physics final! My parents barely even scolded her so I was upset at the time but now, it's hilarious. I've never told anyone this because I _know_ he'd be furious, but I overheard my dad telling my mom he was disappointed my sister wasn't smart enough to become a scientist, even though _she_ was supposed to be the smart one!" Gina giggled as she finished detailing the story for the profiler sitting across from her, who was more concerned with the unfinished glass of wine on her side of the table.

She'd only had two, this being her third, but the blonde was abnormally bubbly and open. He gracefully swapped his water for the wine, which she barely even noticed, already onto another story. Normally he would have ordered a good, English beer with their meal, but the drive back to Jenna's flat was a considerable distance and he just _knew_ something would go wrong if he risked it. Gina kept laughing, almost stuck in her head as she was retelling the events, and it occurred to him she might be having some sort of allergic reaction to the food.

Then she got quiet, as though whatever was impacting her wore off, and he found himself faced with a death glare.

"You aren't even _listening_ to me anymore. Don't you _care_ about your _wife_'s childhood?" she scowled, reaching for the glass to take a sip, only to spit the water back into the glass when she realized it wasn't her wine. Which, of course, earned him another stony gaze.

The only explanation was something unpleasant on her Facebook. She had checked the site while they were in the car and her celebratory mood had vanished, only to return when she'd started in on the wine, and now she was flip-flopping between laughing at herself and yelling at him.

"Of course I care," he scoffed, considering how to get her talking about whatever was bothering her, "What self-respecting man wouldn't care about your life? I mean, here you are, beautiful, charming young blonde, in the prime of her adulthood, sitting across from a handsome, available young bloke in an elite dining establishment…"

"Available?"

"Eh, well, only for you, of course. After all, you _are_ wearing my ring, which allows you a fair bit of exclusivity. It _also_ means you should be telling me what's bothering you."

She sighed, looking ready to dart off to the lady's room, before admitting, "My sister messaged me. She called me a screw-up because of our 'rush wedding' and accused me of being pregnant. All my life I've been second to her and this is no different, she's going to find some rich boyfriend from a wealthy family and do everything exactly like my dad wants."

"I'm sure she will, and ten years down the road he'll be called into an FBI interrogation room to be questioned about his involvement with a high-end prostitute in an upscale call girl service. Five years after, he'll have gotten a vasectomy and a year later, your sister will wind up pregnant and they'll make a big lawsuit about the procedure not working to cover up the indiscretions of the both of them; likely including a trip to some black-market surgeon to get it reversed. But you? You'll be the stable one, none of that rubbish, so you'll be happier."

"You think? I mean, I don't disagree with you about her, but it's a lot harder to predict my own life."

"Well, stick with me, love, and you'll wind up just fine," he winked, and she suddenly noticed their hands were now clasped on the left side of the table. It wasn't so much a supportive hold as a romantic one, and Gina found she just couldn't let go, instead transfixed by his tender gaze. He'd said he didn't do these fancy, elaborate dates to seduce one night stands, but this certainly felt practiced. Maybe she brought it out in him, though that was a bit self-absorbed to think she was anything overly special to a woman-loving bachelor like him.

He seemed to be reading her thoughts, because he cut in, "Love, you are something special. I don't care what your father says, or your bloody idiot sister, they're obviously not going to marry you, much as they want to marry you off to some rich moron. It doesn't matter to me if you've always been called the pretty one, you are pretty, but to me, you're more than that. You're the smart one, the caring one, the strong one, the funny one, and most importantly, you're you."

"You're really sweet, you know that?" she sniffled, looking ready to start crying.

"Eh, every now and then my bleeding heart sympathy flares up. Usually only for gorgeous blondes," he shrugged, hoping to cheer her back up, and indeed, she giggled softly, returning her focus to her plate.

_Who knows_, he thought, _she may well turn out to be THE one_. And that was alright by Mick Rawson.

* * *

><p>Far across the ocean, in a rural Nevada town, Beth Griffith threw her phone at Prophet.<p>

"This backwater town must be miles from the nearest cell tower. I don't mind the tranquility but you would _hope_ they might have moved on from Y2K and into the digital age," she scowled, swiveling in her chair at the dusty table they were seated around. The police station of the small village only had two rooms, besides the holding cell, which left them minimal space to work with.

"I think you're addicted to checking their Facebooks, this is becoming a serious problem, man," Prophet replied, shrugging his shoulders as he held her phone up to get the narrow band of service that ran through the town but seemed to stop at the shorter woman's level.

"Well if it wasn't so pathetically amusing to watch those two screw up over and over, posting this stupid crap and not even realizing what they're saying, I wouldn't be," the brunette huffed, letting out a sharp bark of laughter at how oblivious Mick could be at times.

"I'm pretty sure the 'sleeping together' line was a typo or something. Don't ask me for what but I doubt he would risk saying that, out in the open."

"Penelope will be so upset she's going to lose the bet."

"I said it was a typo, not that it wasn't happening, man. Oh, _oh_, score! She just posted a new status. 'Mick's sister woke up! She'll be fine now, glad we're out of the danger zone.' Well it's not to your sadistic sense of humor's liking, but it's good news."

"Really? They should be back when we're done with this case, if the senior citizen cops would bother to come back from their patrol. Those two should be in a retirement home, not questioning potential suspects."

Cooper entered, a cheerful expression on his face as he presented a series of old documents, likely evidence for the case. Before starting in on the discoveries, he commented, "Mick called about it, actually. He's going to stay until Jenna's back on her feet. Figured there's no point in sending Gina home early, we've got this case covered."

"We've got this on _lock_," Prophet agreed, tossing his hat into the air so it landed back on his head.

That was when the secretary for the small police department, one of the cops' granddaughters, ran in half-crazed, tears flooding down her face and bleeding her mascara clean off.

"Someone just shot my grandpa!"

"Cop killer. Joy," Beth frowned, cracking her knuckles. The case just got a bit trickier.

* * *

><p>Yeah I don't do sad endings and tragic circumstances I'm too much of a sap for happily ever afters. Or am I? Something could still go wrong! Continue reading to find out. As always, thanks to my loyal readers and reviewers, and click the button below to let me know what you're thinking of the story. The big 'what the heck is happening' is still yet to come, so stay tuned for the continuing misadventures of our favorite profilers!<p> 


	11. In Which Jenna Puts Her Foot Down

Alrighty, back in action with the next chapter! I'm trying to get these done but this is sort of the middle slump of the story where you just have to keep moving and show what happens next before the big dramatic hilarity ensues. It didn't feel right to leave Jenna's fate in the wings while Mick and Gina went on a huge adventure.

**Disclaimer**: I have all 13 episodes saved on my DVR (and The Fight thanks to my mom's unfortunate love of Mick/Emily... something I 101% oppose FIGHT THE IDIOCY) but that's it.

Thanks to all my readers and those who have reviewed. Glad my biggest fan the Poppakardo is still pleased with the story. You guys are the best for reading and I hope you're enjoying!

* * *

><p>Jenna had been all too glad to depart the hospital with a clean bill of health. After the number of days she'd spent lying in it, her hair was a mess, her face felt coated in grime and she wanted a comfortable pair of clothes, freshly washed and from her own closet. Not to mention there was the constant smell of antiseptic masking death – the elderly man next to her had passed on suddenly in the middle of the night and it took the nurses several hours to find him, as his vitals weren't hooked up properly.<p>

She sat in the back seat of her older brother's rental car, reclining against the plush fabric and simply listening to him banter with the blonde woman in the front. After pretending to fall asleep to encourage the pair to talk, they were busy discussing what to do about their 'Facebook mess' and how to get out of it. It wasn't that she didn't want to catch up with her brother, but once her head cleared, she realized he actually might have been telling the truth, and they were just friendly coworkers.

He wouldn't be prone to admitting it now and would feel guilty for deceiving her, thus the only way to uncover the truth was to spy. Plus she didn't feel overly talkative until she took a nice, long shower and freshened up. A perfectly reasonable desire, if she did say so herself.

Mick, fool he was, kept apologizing for the whole incident and its continued existence. Apparently he never bothered to double check what his iPhone was typing – his fault. After playing around with several friends' Apple products, the brunette was _quite_ certain she never wanted to take the risk with faulty autocorrect and shaky virtual keyboards. But he always had been impulsive.

That was probably what made their spur-of-the-moment 'marriage' so believable. Anyone who knew her brother wouldn't be surprised he'd up and married a pretty blonde out of the blue, more or less. It could easily have been an alcohol-heavy night in Vegas, and he wasn't very open about his past so it was unlikely many Facebook friends knew that his dearly-beloved kid sister was lying on a hospital bed at the same time his supposed marriage was taking place.

As usual, her brother did most of the talking. The blonde, Gina if her foggy memory served, listened for the most part, shaking her head and likely rolling her eyes. Every so often she'd cut in and blame him for something or let him off the hook for something else. There wasn't much anger in her words, so she either didn't actually care or had gotten over it.

Gina's tone changed when the subject of her family was brought up, though. And Jenna perked up for that. It was the one thing the profiler seemed genuinely upset about, and Mick was trying hard to come off as apologetic as he could.

The British girl smirked. He had it _bad_. Her eternal flirt of a brother, in the past known for having a different broad every night, was legitimately concerned he'd crossed the line regarding a pretty girl. A line regarding her _family_, at that. Maybe he was overly sensitive because of what happened to their parents – he did remember them better than she did – but he was quite clearly sorry for getting the blonde's father and sister involved, simply by posting stupid statuses.

Though it sounded like the sister had her own issues. Gina didn't seem particularly fond of her sister, certainly not to the degree Mick was of his own, and it was more her father's opinion that truly bothered her.

Her brother kept apologizing for putting her in the situation, knowing she hadn't yet been able to explain it was just a prank to him very well. That was the one issue the blonde wasn't as forgiving on, was her father, and briefly Jenna wondered what it would have been like to grow up with their real father and still have him around when it came time to get married.

Maybe it'd have been nice. Mick had liked him; everyone had their faults, so he wouldn't be perfect, but he'd have been theirs. And that was something the foster fathers never really were.

The car stopped on a familiar street, so she quickly shut her eyes. Mick sighed happily and whispered to his fake wife his elation at having a healthy sister again. They both stepped out of the car, her brother moving to open the back door and he gently shook her. Pretending to wake up was easy – she'd simulated unconsciousness many times before to trick him, and he never once caught on.

Jenna stepped out and smiled. This was her home, her own flat, the road where she lived, and inside were all her possessions. Though she would have preferred introducing her home to her brother and his 'friend' personally, it was nice they'd been able to see it. Mick was so busy with the job he hadn't been back to England since she'd last moved.

She rushed ahead of the pair and promptly locked the door to her room, thankful to finally have access to her shower. The lovebirds could spend some more time alone.

"You know she wasn't asleep, right?" Gina shrugged, turning to face the sniper as he locked the door.

He blankly stared at her, cocking his head in disbelief, "She was too. I think I'd know if _my_ sister was asleep or not."

"No you wouldn't, because she's fooled you many times before. She's curious about us. Once the fuzziness of just waking up from a coma wore off she realized you were telling the truth that we were just friends," the blonde explained, sighing as Mick continued to glare.

"Rubbish. There's no possible way… Her breathing was off, wasn't it?"

"Yes, _love_. It's like they say, the people who spend the most time around you don't notice haircuts as easily. She's done it so much you don't notice. I did it to my parents enough I can recognize the signs."

"Well I hope she learned something interesting, snooping on her older brother. I never spied on her," he scoffed, daintily sitting in the living room's cushiony chair and checking his iPhone once again.

Beth had made yet another wall post, this time to him, cheering him on for 'tapping that'. He rolled his eyes; it was typical Beth to be posting lewd comments intentionally in the hopes of getting a rise out of either of her coworkers. He intended to simply ignore her, allowing Prophet to watch her squirm anxiously as she awaited a reply. Her mind would begin to wander, considering all the reasons why they wouldn't be gratifying her with a response, eventually turning to X-rated thoughts.

And that would be Beth's problem, not his.

Speaking of his problems, he needed to call Gina's father and explain the situation, man to man. Though he probably wouldn't seem very manly claiming 'I didn't want to be alone so I lied to airport security to get your daughter seated next to me,' it had to be done. It was _his_ fault the older man was even aware of the situation, thanks to his irreparable Facebook prank, yet Gina was the one getting scorn from her family over it.

The things that woman put up with. His generally flirty, immature demeanor, especially around Beth and Prophet, hearing tales of his 'rough nights' with other women, constantly having the other two profilers nagging her about being one of those rough nights, getting dragged across the ocean to be a shoulder to cry on. The list went on.

Yet she took all of it in stride. Sure, she'd forced him to buy her a ridiculously-priced diamond necklace to match her ridiculously-priced diamond ring as payment for somewhat permanently hacking her Facebook, and sometimes she'd give him the _serious_ glare when talking about the fallout of his hack, but she was a much better sport about it than he'd been, and certainly she accepted things better than Beth would when he finally got ahold of her account.

She was off in the kitchen, starting to prepare a lunch, while his sister showered. He had the whole room to himself to get lost in his thoughts. And get lost he did.

What if the reason she was so lax about the situation was because she had no actual attraction to him? The usual reaction for a girl teased about a boy she had feelings for was flustered denial and blushing overreactions. Gina simply absorbed the blows, but maybe she was struggling hard to be calm and collected for the man whose only family was in a coma.

Then again, the blonde rarely got extremely upset unless they were dealing with a horribly sick sadist, and only then when the case hit too close to home for her. He certainly had his temper flare up, but Gina was the docile one of the group. Her personality had been molded into rolling with the punches, so roll she would.

Even if it meant coping with hundreds of her 'friends' genuinely believing she would spontaneously marry her devilishly handsome British coworker.

Perhaps he should have Jenna engage in some girl talk. Sure, they had just met each other, but it would be rude to deny someone who just escaped a brush with death a nice chat about a certain male profiler. Plus it'd give him some down time. The whole trip he'd been feeling torn between spending time at the hospital and keeping Gina entertained. It wasn't like she could talk to _any_ of her friends except via his phone, nor had she exactly requested to fly across the ocean with an emotionally distressed man.

It felt odd being so torn. On the one hand, all he could think about had been his sister, but on the other, he didn't really _want_ to be thinking about her, because that inevitably led to considering how the coma would end. It was better to simply stay active and keep his mind on something else when he wasn't at the hospital.

The door to Jenna's room flung open, and out stepped his little sister, looking much nicer and alive. Even though they wouldn't be going anywhere for a while, she had applied her trademark eyeliner and pulled her hair back into a modestly high side ponytail. The color was returning to her skin and she appeared more comfortable in clothes of her own choosing from her closet.

He'd never realized both of the important women in his life favored side ponies until he was looking at the two with their hair pulled back at the same time. Gina would flash in front of the doorway to the kitchen every so often and he could see her hair pulled to the side, not the most practical place for it while she was cooking, he had to admit.

"Feeling better, little squirt?" he smirked, dropping the phone onto the well-cushioned arm of the chair and devoting his full attention to his sister.

"Tons with a prat like you around," she shot back, smiling as she sat down on the other side of the chair and hugged him.

"Yeah well, this prat will dump you into the channel if you scare him like this again."

"You wouldn't, that thing is filthy!"

"Alright doll, I'll dump you somewhere cleaner, since I'll inevitably have to jump in and save you."

"Oh yes, _old_ sport, it was _always_ me who needed rescuing."

"Now you really should be more grateful for that time I climbed a telephone pole with live wires to get your teddy…"

"I was _three_, that bear meant everything to me."

Gina felt bad for interrupting the siblings, but they would probably want to know the meal was ready, so interrupt she did, "Hey kids, lunch is done. Maybe you'll figure out which one's the damsel once you eat something."

Jenna's head whipped around to look at the blonde, who she apparently had forgotten was present. Her head cocked to the side, as though she was analyzing the other woman carefully, and Mick took the opportunity to excuse himself to the bathroom, knowing this was typical curious Jenna behavior. And when his sister got curious, she got answers.

The brunette woman nodded and hustled off to the kitchen, coming to stand next to the profiler as she hunted for forks.

"They're in the back of the second drawer down. Kind of a weird place to keep forks but that's where my flatmate grew up with them and she bought the silverware so who am I to argue?" Jenna drawled, flicking a finger at the cabinet in question and Gina nodded appreciatively.

"So…" the British girl began, drawing the word out, "What started this whole marriage sham, anyway?"

Gina blinked, apparently not expecting such a blunt question. She thought for a moment before answering, "They wouldn't give us seats next to each other if I wasn't family. Your brother apparently thought we look more like a couple than relatives so he lied. We just kept it up, so I could visit you with him easily, I suppose."

"How'd it spread to Facebook, then?"

"Oh, he was getting me back for a prank one of our coworkers and I pulled on him. But every time I tried to change anything back it was reverted to what he'd done. I've been stuck as Gina Rawson for a couple days now."

"It's a good surname, said without any bias, of course. We're a pretty easy family to get into, the only in-law you need approval from is the other sibling," Jenna shrugged coyly, eyebrows raised to suggest something more serious.

"I'm sure he'll find a nice girl for you to approve someday…"

Jenna cut her off, eyes narrowing, "You'd be upset if she wasn't you. Do you like my brother?"

"Well, we work together, and have for a couple years now, so I'd say we get along well enough," Gina stuttered, a bit taken back by the younger woman's bluntness. Mick had declined to tell her that his little sister had been trained by the best Interpol interrogators around.

"No, do you _love_ him, don't be daft."

"I'm not sure that's really relevant, he's not interested in anything serious…"

Jenna blinked twice, not interested in the blonde's excuses, "Are you kidding me? My brother doesn't get close to people without a very good reason, he doesn't trust them with who he really is, he doesn't profusely apologize for upsetting some pretty broad he could seduce in ten minutes. No, he's reserved and shut up in his own world, he doesn't extend himself to people unless he truly feels safe with them. It started when our parents died, I think. He trusts me, obviously, and your boss, Cooper. He used to trust his old Special Forces buddies but things happened to them and now he's disenchanted with Interpol and SF and everyone else over here.

"Why do you think he left his only family for America? You have streets paved with gold and a dream, one he never found here. He cares about you a lot more than _any_ girl I ever met when he lived here. They were all blank faces and I don't remember a single name, I doubt he does either, unless they can get him information.

"Mick doesn't fall in love for kicks. He doesn't develop that kind of attachment without some serious trust. He just doesn't know how to tell you, or if you'll feel the same. I can tell, when he couldn't fall asleep at night knowing I might never wake up, to distract himself he'd think of all the ways he could explain how he feels. I'm sure he's run through all your reactions a thousand times in his head. He really likes working on your team and he'd be mortified if telling you made things awkward. He tells me about America, and it's obvious you're his favorite partner."

Gina stared, eyes wide with shock. She hadn't been expecting this giant tell-all from the girl, who apparently picked things up faster than anyone on their team. "Sure you're not the real profiler in the family?"

Jenna laughed sharply, shaking her head, "When you're an orphan with a playboy brother, you learn to read people. If he's not around, you're on your own to tell who is safe and who's a threat. But he's easy to 'profile'. I know him and all his little insecurities, even if he likes to front he's perfect. Let me make something _very_ clear, Mrs. _Rawson_, if my brother moves back to England broken-hearted, you'll be sorry."

"Threatening a federal agent is a crime even in England, squirt," Mick smirked, strolling cheekily into the room and sitting at the table before continuing, "Besides, she's already wearing my _hundred grand_ ring, you've got nothing to worry about."

His sister gaped, speechless for a few moments, "You bought a _hundred thousand dollar_ ring to trick _airport security_?"

"She's convincing when she whines 'buy me this giant diamond baby I'll love you forever'," the sniper shrugged, biting into an apple slice.

"I didn't _whine_, and besides, I said best friend, not sex slave," Gina huffed, though her eyes dropped to the ring on her finger to admire its beauty.

"And I said 'love you forever' not sex slave. But interesting you connect the two, love. Secret fantasy I can help you act out?" he said it so casually she almost missed the blatant sexual reference.

"Get me a matching bracelet and we'll talk."

"Do I really have to buy your love?"

"You said 'secret fantasy' not 'love you forever' that time."

"Oh now you're just being stubborn, sweetheart."

"Only because you're being you, _sugarplum_."

"You should feel honored I like you enough to be myself around you, _pumpkin_."

Jenna gagged. Gina had progressively inched nearer to the man's chair throughout the conversation, and if the blonde got any closer she'd be sitting in Mick's lap, clearly _not_ something his little sister wanted to see. She grabbed a sandwich and darted out of the room to watch television and begin the long process of texting all her friends to alert them she was fine and not eager to watch her brother flirt with his soon-to-be-real fake wife.

The lovebirds could choke on their pet names.

* * *

><p>And choke they still may! Who knows what will happen next? This chapter has probably the longest non-dialogue scene in the entire story, at least I think it does I didn't really go back and check. Hope you guys enjoyed, remember to leave a review if you could (anon reviews are turned on, fyi) to let me know how you're feeling about things! Thanks for reading and I'll try not to be too long with the next chapter for my loyal readers!<p> 


	12. In Which a Question is Asked

Hello all! Back with Chapter 12, which is a fairly important milestone because it officially makes this the longest work I've put up on FF, beating out Suspect Covers, which for some reason was a lot shorter word-wise as well. The best part is there's still a long ways to go with this story! And once it does end, don't worry, I'll be back with more stuff. Unrelated to this story's existence but my mom downloaded some Angry Birds games on her iPad and plays them for hours yelling at the iPad.. she drained it to 0% battery playing and makes me beat the HARD LEVELS lol, I'm not even that good myself. So angry birds are everywhere...

**Disclaimer:** I have my Word document but that's it :C

Shoutouts to Ch11's reviewers to celebrate the milestone:

Richkardo Roachkardo Gonzalez Hernandez Runa Espacio Senior: my faithful number one fan (a) you have read probably all my work I feel like I had you read my old TG fics back in the day when times were good I am glad I continue to entertain you for several minutes of your life despite the mediocrity surrounding your room. The angry cheyennes will be seen again fear not. Stay fly guh.

sunshine: Glad you're enjoying the story and taking the time to review, even if you don't have overly much to say! Pleased to not let your expectations down!

writergirl: Oh they'll be back to America eventually but like I said, they still have a ways to go ;). Hey don't put yourself down too much, you've got some good fics and practice makes perfect! (I admit though I only really read the Kensi/Callen ones ugh I hate NCIS: LA I really do but my parents watch it and the TV is right there so then I watch it.. I'm rambling). Glad you're liking things though!

* * *

><p>Jenna Rawson was livid, and it took a lot to bring her to that point. She'd get testy, she'd get determined, she'd get stubborn, she'd get temperamental, but she didn't get outright furious. Growing up in foster home after foster home, they yelled at her and screamed at her brother and shrieked at the other foster children. It lost its luster long ago, and she rarely felt the need to fly into a rage over something.<p>

But her brother was still in the kitchen and his pretty little 'fake' wife was almost assuredly on his lap by now, giggling stupidly at his poor attempts at flirting, and her phone was nowhere to be found.

"Mick! Where is my phone?" she trumpeted out, muting the television momentarily. The pair went silent and he seemed to be thinking hard.

"Oh, the hospital said it was broken, if I recall properly," he finally yelled back, though his voice didn't sound fully convinced that was the story. He'd been pretty blindsided by the revelation his sister could easily have just died to be paying attention to the small details like what happened to her phone.

Jenna didn't reply. That phone had _everything_, all her pictures, all her contacts, her maximum-point fully-completed Angry Birds record, all of it. And who knew where the SIM card was now if the phone had been damaged. Her network provider might have a backup on file, but she was furious. She and her flatmate had decided to get rid of the landline when they moved in, as both their lives were safely stored on their mobiles.

"Where is it?"

"Evidence, probably? It honestly hasn't once occurred to me to find it."

"Get your keys, I need my SIM card."

"Yes squirt."

The brunette could tell her brother was annoyed. He'd probably been getting farther with the blonde than he ever had before, and now his beloved sister was demanding a tedious visit to the British police to get the battered remains of her phone. His guilt at not being there to prevent the accident would force him to do everything she asked, and though it was tempting to let the lovebirds stay home alone, there was no way she was squaring off against grumpy cops without her ex-Special Forces brother.

The duo soon emerged from the kitchen, still dressed presentably enough for a run to the police station. Mick made a couple calls before leaving to determine which precinct had handled Jenna's case and where the phone would be stored. If it hadn't been processed by this point, he was going to personally file some serious complaints about the lagging legal system.

Jenna sat in the back of the car again, letting her pretend sister-in-law take the front. She grabbed her best pair of noise-blocking headphones and Mick's iPhone and relaxed, letting the pair continue flirting on. The brunette wanted nothing more than to see her brother settle down with a nice, stable girl, she simply wasn't overly inclined to listen to their thinly-veiled sexual references.

Slipping back into thought as she had on the ride home, she stared at the back of Gina's head. It nodded whenever she was agreeing with something and would shake when she laughed, which was fairly frequently. The blonde seemed genuinely entertained by whatever flirty drivel Mick was tossing at her, or she was very good at pretending for his sake. But his dearly-loved sister was out of the danger zone and there was no need to ooze false sympathy anymore, which Jenna figured was why the blonde was here anyways.

People didn't just take time away from their busy job hunting serial killers and sadists to accompany their opposite-gender friend over the ocean as a pity party without either secretly being involved with said friend or ordered to be a personal cheerleader.

Every so often, Gina would swing her head from side to side, vehemently disagreeing with something Mick had said. That was fairly unusual for girls the Brit dated – they normally just giggled damply at everything he spouted off. The blonde was nice to her brother, but she wasn't a pushover. It didn't fit his type, but then again, neither did his actions towards her. Gina wasn't a one night (or week) stand and he'd remember her name for longer than 18 hours after the fact.

Jenna always knew someday a woman would come along and chain him down. His unattached bachelor days would come to a screeching halt when a challenge presented herself. It was an odd dynamic, though. For almost all her life, it had been Mick and Jenna against the world. He was the only family she had ever known and truly considered worthy of the term, and she was the only family he had left, after their parents died.

A sister-in-law changed things. It disrupted the eternal partnership between brother and sister by tossing another woman into the mix. Though to be fair, when she eventually got married herself she'd be bringing in an outside male. She had never much minded the one night stands because they meant nothing to her brother, but a girlfriend, she was important. Her brother would always love her more than anyone else, but in a familial sense. A wife would be _the_ love of his life, and it was a different sort of affection.

As far as she knew, Mick wasn't physically attracted to his own sister, and Gina could have _all_ his sexual attention.

It was hard to hate the female profiler, though. She oozed desire for the Brit, but at the same time, wasn't throwing herself on him. And she was either highly skilled at hiding her psychopathic, clingy tendencies or was actually one of the very few sane girls who had tried to coerce Mick into a relationship. There had been a few obsessive stalkers and consistent nags, but he'd shrugged them off as best he could. The overly-interested women had always turned him off and he usually came home alone after having to confront one out of frustration.

Gina came off as simply in love, but hesitant about where the Brit would be willing to go. Jenna thought that the fact he was the one who conjured up the fake marriage story and insisted on keeping it, and bought an engagement ring, should have been a sign he was thinking serious relationship.

She'd have to tell Mick to make his move. His fellow profiler didn't strike Jenna as the sort of girl who would sit around forever waiting for a flirty bachelor to declare his intentions. She was attractive and young – there were plenty of other fish in the sea for Gina if the Brit beat around the bush, and he did seem to be very nervous to bring up the subject.

The car stopped and the engine shut off. Jenna looked up to confirm they'd arrived at the police station, smiling as she paused the music. SIM card time.

* * *

><p>Beth Griffith's day could not get much worse. The sick-sadist-turned-cop-killer-turned-suicide-bomber had ingested a bizarre concoction that caused him to spontaneously combust, blasting his guts and bloodstream onto the agent who was reaching for his wrists to cuff him.<p>

Which, naturally, just so happened to be her.

She'd blinked twice, splattered remains of another human dripping down her face, as Prophet stared in utter horror. He was frozen in place, much like her, absolutely clueless as to what to do. Cooper turned around from talking with the local detective, the only one not killed, and winced. This wasn't going to end well regardless of how he played it. Being coated in someone else's exploded guts was never a pleasant sensation, and Beth was probably the one person on his team who would have the worst reaction possible.

Sure, she dealt with blood and gore and sickness every day and handled it better than the younger three agents and certainly Penelope, but nowhere in Beth's contract was there a clause about dealing with suicide bombing psychos. Cooper was fairly certain nothing remotely similar to this had happened to her previously. Perhaps in Iraq there were bombers but she had never directly been in an attack. According to her record, of course, and if you went by his, well, he hadn't even been on the planet for a fair few years.

Finally snapping into action, Cooper rushed over and escorted her to the house's bathroom. The serial killer's next victims may have been tied up in their bedroom but surely they would be gracious enough to allow the use of their shower for poor Beth. Considering the psycho hadn't yet had a chance to harm them, they should be quite appreciative of her 'sacrifice' and readily offer their water supply up.

Prophet was still paralyzed by the shock of seeing his teammate covered in such disgusting substances. The local detective eventually walked over and nudged the man, who reacted, only to be surprised when Beth and Cooper were no longer in the room.

Several hours later, Beth was still whining she could feel melted flesh in her hair, even after five lengthy showers. Prophet was trying his best to be a charitable slave, simply glad it hadn't been him, but the woman was really driving him insane. Cooper had long ago ducked out to make some 'very important phone calls' and was no help.

"Look, man, I catch bad guys, not run a beauty parlor. I can't fix your precious hair and I already got you a six pack of beer, you don't need another," he groaned, chucking a hair brush onto her lap.

"No, you look, _man_, you didn't have a crazy blow himself up when you were six inches away. If I hadn't decided to be nice and make the arrest for you, I would not have taken the hit," she snapped, turning to fixate a vile death glare on him.

He shuddered and shut up, picking the brush up off her lap and brushing her locks for her.

Cooper walked back in, looking more annoyed than he had all day. The two profilers looked inquisitively at him, silently asking for the details. He rubbed the back of his head a couple times, opening his mouth then shutting it, as though debating how to phrase his statement.

"Did Mick or Gina talk to either of you or Facebook something? Her father just called, asking me why Mick called him asking for permission…"

Beth's groan drowned him out. The day was now minus $1000, owed to Penelope Lucky Duck Garcia.

* * *

><p>"Look, buddy, I understand your system is utter rubbish compared to ours over in America, but if you could <em>please<em> get my sister her SIM card, we'll be out of your hair," Mick scowled, standing to his full height to glare down at the uncooperative policeman at the counter in the station, who was refusing to hand over any evidence.

"You call yourself a Special Forces operative but call that bollocks American rubbish yours? Get out of my way," the man grunted, his accent thick. He must have been from the country, judging by the slur in his dialect.

"Nah this guy is the real deal, best sniper SF had for _years_. I got her SIM card right here, just finished processing it specially for you. Man, you used to be really big," another officer cheerfully gushed, stepping out from a back room with a small bag containing the chip.

Mick was about to retort that he was still big when Jenna stepped on his foot. Gina had stayed in the car, knowing very little about British law enforcement and already in enough trouble with the hospital guard.

"Thank you, mate, good to see _someone_ can recognize brilliant talent when they see it," the profiler huffed, reaching for the bag, but the officer stopped at the last second.

"Say, didn't you just get hitched, too? Move to America, exclusive FBI deal, a wife, you're really livin' the dream old sport."

"Wait a second, your file doesn't say anything about being married. What's all this bollocks…" the officer at the counter butted in, a suspicious frown spreading on his face. Realizing the secret was finally out, Mick snagged the bag and dragged Jenna out as fast as he could.

"Thanks for the card and all your efforts serving HRH the Queen, God save her," he called, saluting with bag in hand before darting into the car. He practically tossed Jenna into the back before speeding out of the parking lot.

After several minutes of silent driving, he pulled the car over into a parking lot and stepped out to make a call. Gina's father was less than amused with the situation, but took it in stride, pleased the Brit at least had the courtesy to call him and ask. He quickly returned to the car, turning to the blonde.

"Jig is up, love. That prat of an officer figured out we're not married and started being a bother. If we don't want to cause a big incident we'd better make things official, for the moment, of course," Mick explained, sounding more nervous as the conversation went on.

Gina eyed him warily, not entirely positive as to what he was getting at. They had only lied to sit by each other on an airplane, right? Surely it wasn't that big of a deal. Then there was the hospital, and car rental, and bills, and Facebook, and planking with rings on… Perhaps the incidences where their marriage might make a difference did indeed wrack up.

"Gina LaSalle, will you marry me?"

* * *

><p>Uh oh! With suspicion, and bloody guts, piling on, what ever will happen next to our favorite profilers?<p>

As always your reviews are loved and motivate me to keep a fairly consistent update pace. Thank you so much for reading (and hopefully reviewing) and stay fresh!


	13. In Which Another Question is Asked

Hello all, back with Chapter 13! It was another one of those "I have the start and the end, how to get the word count?" chapters BUT I hope you guys are quite pleased with what you got!

**Disclaimer**: if only all us ff writers were given the show :C

Good to hear from you Jada! And glad my other reviewers are enjoying the story. As always, thanks for reading and leave a review if you'd like, love hearing your opinions.

In regards to changing POVs, well, there's really only one POV but it changes to focus on one character's thoughts moreso than any other's. I hope it's better this chapter, if not, point it out to me.

* * *

><p>Nobody had ever proposed to Gina LaSalle before, and she wasn't sure anyone ever would. As she'd informed Cooper, she had no desire for a family of her own, and if this meant she'd live a life of serial monogamy, so be it. And she was pretty sure nobody had ever thought Mick would settle down before he hit 35 and started to lose his youthful charm.<p>

Naturally, it was fairly shocking when the two events coincided into one rushed and nervous question, asked in a rental car pulled off the road in a relatively empty parking lot several miles from the police station where their fake marriage cover story had been blown.

He didn't exactly have a ring to present while he asked the question, likely because it was already on her finger, along with a gold band masquerading as a wedding ring. There had been no fancy dinner or romantic vacation leading up to the proposal and truth be told he probably hadn't planned on asking. The number of times they'd kissed could be counted on one hand.

Gina wondered how she was supposed to feel in a moment like this. Every girl dreamed of her beloved man popping the question, giving her a dazzling ring, declaring his love for her. She had the ring and a man asking, but the rest of it was rather unorthodox. Some girls would probably start crying, others would be speechless, a fair few would begin screaming 'yes' while still others would start asking questions back.

She doubted many would scrunch up their faces in bewilderment and carefully reflect on the events that had triggered the proposal. Especially when asked by an eternally flirty, handsome Brit. Other girls fawned over him, practically tripping over their own feet to get into his bed, and they'd probably say 'yes' five seconds before he could ever ask.

But here Mick was, asking one of the few women who would stare in a mixture of horror and surprise, saying nothing. Jenna whistled nervously from the back seat, apparently not sure what to make of the situation either. Mick was getting anxious, fidgeting with his hands; he couldn't sit still in the driver's seat nor could he make eye contact with either girl.

Finally he seemed unable to take the silence any further and turned straight forward, hands clenching the wheel in an uncomfortably tight grip. His voice was tense and full of disappointment as he retracted his query, "You know, forget it, I'll figure something out."

He continued talking, somewhat to himself and partially to fill the awkward silence, refusing to turn even a degree to look at the blonde. The mumbled words seemed to bring her back to the present and she finally reacted, not even processing what he was saying as she blurted, "Yes. I will."

It took the Brit several moments to realize Gina had said anything at all. He slowly shifted to look at her, partially focused on the road he was driving down, and slowly asked, "What?"

"I said yes."

His eyes went wide. Jenna was fairly certain her brother was much more excited to be getting married than his fellow profiler was, judging by the huge grin, cocky as ever, that broke out on his face.

"Well we'd better hurry and get all this done before that rubbish angry cop comes and arrests us for falsifying marriage claims. We've got a witness right here, my own little sister, and the engagement ring. Jenna, what's the closest court? We need a judge."

The brunette woman sighed. She was never going to get a new phone at this rate.

* * *

><p>"Cooper, he was probably drunk and didn't know what he was doing," Beth soothed, though the denial was as much for herself as it was the unit leader.<p>

"I dunno, man, it's the afternoon there. Gina wouldn't let him get smashed so early unless he ditched her, and then she'd just be mad," Prophet shrugged, having already run through several dozen scenarios in his head. Each led back to their British coworker seriously proposing, though why he couldn't yet determine.

"Her father sounded half-impressed and half-furious. Really not sure how this will play out," the black profiler sighed, shaking his head as he sat beside the others.

"Penelope has a track on their names, in case they try to submit any marriage licenses. Or leave the country," the brunette woman tossed out, glancing once again to her phone.

"It doesn't have any new Facebook statuses, don't bother," scowled Prophet, rolling his eyes at her borderline-obsessive behavior. She threw the phone at him, hitting the man in the chest, but it did little damage.

"Mick is impulsive, yeah, but come on, does he really think Gina will agree to a spur-of-the-moment wedding?" Cooper said, talking aloud more than anything else.

"Hey, maybe it wasn't a shotgun wedding plan. Jenna pretended to be dying so they could go have a real nice honeymoon," the other man suggested, though he wasn't very convinced of the idea himself.

Beth's phone began vibrating in his lap and he jolted awkwardly, apparently quite startled by the sudden sensations. He quickly threw it back to her and spun the opposite direction, waiting for the brunette to answer.

"Penelope?" she greeted, upon answering the call.

"Yes, my dove, it's me, with some _very interesting_ news. A marriage license was just filed for Mick Rawson and his soon-to-be-bride, Gina LaSalle. Or, I suppose, Gina Rawson. I can extradite it through the system if you like or tie it up, through since it's international waters I hesitate to get my toes wet," the tech replied, spitting out her findings eagerly. The profilers could almost see her bouncing in her chair in front of her numerous monitors.

"No way…" Prophet mumbled, furiously spinning back around.

"Penelope are you lying to win a couple grand?" Beth frowned, her tone clearly not amused by the news.

"Absolutely not angel faces, this license dealio is one hundred percent legit. Our little boy's all grown up and finding himself a nice girl to love and cherish forever," she sniffed, sounding ready to cry from happiness, though the profilers could tell it was an act.

"P, let me call you back once I talk to Mick. Fickler will serve him on a silver platter if he's doing something stupid again, but for now, let it slide," Cooper finally said, carefully thinking over the situation.

"Sir yes sir, call me with all the juicy details of just exactly how I scammed your landlocked agents out of a thousand dollars each. Penelope over and out."

"I hope they die."

"Beth!"

* * *

><p>Supposedly-dedicated bachelor Mick Rawson had officially been married for three hours. He knew this thanks to his very recent obsession with checking the time on his phone, nervously waiting for Gina to finish packing so they could run off to the countryside until the license processed and the police would have no cause to arrest them for fraudulent marriage claims.<p>

The ceremony had concluded three hours ago, though, so he considered himself fully chained. He squirmed in Jenna's plush sinkhole of a chair, thinking about all the ways this could have been more romantic and less stressful. He was pretty sure his decidedly-not-blushing bride had never planned her dream wedding as a rush job to evade Scotland Yard with the lone witness her groom's little sister, fresh out of a coma.

Their vows were short and boring, the 'yes's had been spat out and the kiss was disappointingly brief, which could be fully credited to the bride pulling away. She hadn't even opened her mouth. He buys a hundred thousand dollar ring and he gets a three-second kiss on his wedding day.

Such a cruel world.

Jenna was busy making sandwiches that would last overnight, in the event the remote castle hotel they went to had slim pickings with regards to American-safe food. Gina had opted to pack both their suitcases, presumably to avoid being with her newly-official husband for as long as possible. Mick supposed he should be offended at the snub, but the entire situation could be blamed on him, so he shouldn't be too demanding of her good side.

He had zoned out, ignoring the two women hustling about, when his phone's vibrations snapped him out of it. Incoming call from Cooper; at least it promised to be interesting.

"Yeah Coop?"

"Mick, explanation now. This fake marriage scam has gone way too far, and I trusted you not to get into a situation like this."

"Some bored cop realized I wasn't actually married and I figured, to be safe, we ought to get hitched for the week. Nothing serious, mate, it'll all be over before we're back."

"We'll be talking about this when you _are_ back, especially the part where you called Gina's father. If you're playing some big prank on her, nobody's laughing."

"Coop I'm a serial flirt, not a sadist. It's never been my intent to hurt her; I'm not sure if I should be offended or not you think I'd bloody play with her heart like this."

"I just don't want her family getting you deported for messing with their daughter. Even if she's not the favorite you can't screw with her, got it? Would it help if Penelope speeds up the licensing process?"

Mick snorted – he had _every_ intention of screwing, with her. But Cooper likely wouldn't want to know that, "Yeah mate, that'd be splendid. Means less time we have to hide out. Oh, eh, the wifey's ready to go, I'll talk to you later man, thanks."

He hung up before Cooper could reply, turning his attention to the girls as they entered the room, prepared to send the 'happy' couple on their way.

"Everything's packed, you've got a tad of edible food and when the coppers come I'll them the truth – I've got no idea where you've gone off to for your honeymoon. Nor do I want to know what's happening," Jenna explained, handing the cooler over to her brother and opening the door to her flat.

The profilers walked out, carting all the luggage, as she waved farewell, "Have fun lovebirds!"

"Stay safe, love. If anything happens to you again…" Mick trailed off, pausing to hug his sister before following his wife.

"I'll be fine, just a shame you've got to depart for some romantic destination so soon," she teased, running up to kiss him softly on the cheek before going back inside her flat. He paused and looked at the wooden door, now shut, then turned to catch up to the blonde.

* * *

><p>After four hours of driving, Gina was understandably annoyed. The Angry Birds level she was, once again, stuck on had stopped being fun an hour ago and now she had nothing else to do. She'd slept too much the night before and she wasn't overly inclined to engage in small talk with the man who'd essentially conned her into getting married, at the threat of Scotland Yard arrest.<p>

It wasn't entirely fair to be upset at him – the blonde sincerely doubted he'd cooked up some massive scheme just to trick her into a shotgun wedding. But on the other hand, this was certainly not on her to-do list. Once they returned to America, possibly even before the divorce papers were signed, he'd be back to finding hot women eager to spend a night with a devilishly attractive Brit.

He claimed it was all in the accent.

Now she was stuck going to a possibly-romantic castle-turned-hotel for who knew how long, waiting for the marriage to be official, so they couldn't be arrested. If that wasn't bad enough, she was accompanied by her troublesome 'husband', if he even deserved the title after all the mess he'd made.

The main reason for his silent treatment was the confession he'd called her father for permission. It wasn't any of her father's business who she married, nor did she want him to know she was participating in this huge sham. But now he was quite aware of it, and worst of all, had given the Brit his approval. If only the fool had kept his big mouth shut; the occasions where some discretion would have kept things nice and simple kept adding up.

Mick Rawson was not known for carefully considering his social actions, or for staying quiet. It would be a lot easier if it was anyone else – she'd simply have refused the marriage scheme to begin with. But the sniper was different; it was just a shame nothing would ever come of their temporary union. Scotland Yard would be thwarted, they'd file for divorce and laugh about the incident with the team a week later.

She'd never mean more to him than a weekend fling, and that was just how things were.

The radio signals had died out on every decent channel two hours ago, so the Brit drove on in silence. Gina supposed he was getting tired of her blatant attempts to ignore him, but that was his problem. As far as she was concerned, they weren't married and likely never would be again. Their lives would move on as though the event never happened. Nope, there was no way Mick desired anything serious except another _conquest_, or at least she'd tried to convince herself of it so firmly that hearing the genuine emotion in his voice threw her off when he finally spoke.

"You know, giving me the silent treatment doesn't make me feel any better about messing things up for you. I really am sorry I got you into this, it's not like I woke up one morning and thought 'wow, hope my sister gets hit by a bloody car so I can trick my favorite girl into becoming a divorcee' alright?" he lamented, turning slightly to glance at her, but considering she was angled away facing the window, he couldn't see much of her reaction.

"Does it matter what you _thought_? This escalated way out of hand, and your intentions don't change the fact that when we go home you'll promptly go out and find a hotter blonde to sleep with."

"Hotter, maybe, but prettier? Not a chance. Is this honestly what you think of me, that all I care about is my next bloody… _conquest_ and how many rounds she'll go?" he spat the accentuated word out like it was poison, a deep frown creasing his face as he turned back to the road, apparently finished with the conversation.

Gina sat in silence for a few minutes, carefully considering. He'd called her pretty; prettier than anyone else he could find. But words were easy to say, and now he was simply upset at the insinuations she'd made.

"You've never told me otherwise. You're a superego sniper with a clear love of women, it's assumed you're plotting your next rough night."

"What do you bloody want me to say? 'I'm pretty sure I'm in love with you', then you don't feel the same and it's just awkward?" the last sentence was accompanied by a fair bit of malice, but it was mostly used to mask how frustrated he was with himself for not having proper control of the situation as he liked.

'In love' got her attention. He didn't just love her like the rest of their team, it was a deeper attraction. She finally shifted to face him and noticed for the first time just how nervous and uncertain he actually was. The usual air of flawless confidence had slipped away, likely since the wedding ceremony, and was hesitant to return. Perhaps she should have been paying closer attention to her husband instead of ignoring him all afternoon.

Before she could reply or ask for clarification, he announced they'd arrived and sloppily parked the car, pulling his jacket and hat out to disguise his appearance somewhat. The sniper rushed off to check in, leaving Gina with her thoughts. This was absolutely not what she'd had in mind for her first few hours of marriage. The day was waning but not over yet.

There was still time to turn things around.

* * *

><p>Mick had silently led the way to their room, sighing when he saw that the hotel staff's definition of 'two person room' included one large bed with champagne and chocolates resting against the pillows. The stone floor wasn't going to be very comfortable and he would, without a doubt, be the one sleeping on it. If only Gina would trust him not to try and take advantage of her he'd be able to get a decent night's sleep on the bed.<p>

He veered into the bathroom, eager to wash his face and take a moment away from anyone else. There was a rustling noise outside the door and he figured she was unpacking her things to get organized. She never wasted time laying articles out exactly as she wanted, probably due to being a military brat.

Brat certainly described her attitude in the car, he bitterly reflected, leaning back against the wall. Soon she'd be demanding they go to dinner and he pay, since he was her 'husband', and he ought to make sure there was nothing an American would find disgusting in her food. It would never stop. And there'd be no thanks as she was obviously refusing to play the part of a (even semi) loving wife.

Who did she think she was, suggesting he only cared about girls if they were down for a _rough night_? She barely gave him a chance to prove he could be a courteous gentleman – a few pity dates while his sister was lying in a coma and that was it. It wasn't fair. He'd show himself to be a very considerate and loving husband, if only she'd let him.

Finally calming himself enough to go out and unpack his own things, he twisted the doorknob roughly, pulling the door open. He gasped.

There on the bed, propped against the generous quantity of pillows, lay Gina, wearing nothing but lacy maroon lingerie – his favorite color. She raised an eyebrow, silently asking what took him so long to exit. The sniper's mouth hung open, not convinced the sight before him was real. He managed to mouth out 'what,' unable to take his eyes off her, looking so relaxed and eager.

"Don't you want a proper honeymoon, baby?"

* * *

><p>Oh my! Thanks for reading and review if you could (: !<p> 


	14. In Which Penelope Could Win Big

Hi ho readers! I'm back with another chapter (obviously), and CMSB on DVD! It came out the sixth and it took me three stores before I finally found it (at Best Buy); it's also on Amazon. So be sure to buy it if you want to watch the show. And loyal reader/reviewer Antikardomurf reports CMSB is airing in Australia now.. everyone celebrate she can watch the show live!

**Disclaimer**: I can officially say I now own the show, on DVD. Success.

Thanks to my reviewers for leaving your thoughts and my readers for staying tuned in. Hope the story's not letting you down. And now let's see where things go after that rather scandalous cliffhanger!

* * *

><p>Throughout his rather illustrious life, Mick Rawson could not recall a single time he'd said no to a woman (half-)naked lying on a bed before him. And he certainly had never once considered he would decline his blonde coworker if she ever made the offer. From their first meeting, he'd been attracted to Gina, and hinted as much to her whenever possible, in the hopes the feeling was mutual.<p>

Now that the opportunity had finally presented itself, for the first time, Mick was going to refuse a beautiful woman.

Prophet would probably spit his water out again, and Beth, a stalwart supporter of their 'sickeningly thick' sexual tension, would check him into a mental facility. Even Cooper would likely have a long talk with the sniper. Amongst the team, it was widely assumed that if a sober Gina made the first move, there would be no awkward regrets and thus Mick would lunge. But now that she had blatantly smashed the ball into his court, he found himself hesitant.

It wasn't disinterest – he'd meant it when he said there was nobody prettier. The thrill of the chase was a large draw for him, but he'd never backed out before once finally obtaining a resistant target's affections. Rather, it was the knowledge her affections were being forced. One night stands, who cared if they were interested in him or just looking for the first attractive man willing to have a go. But Gina was his 'wife' and it mattered if she really was into it.

Looking at her, he was fairly certain she was roleplaying more than expressing her true desires. Trying to fit the image he had in his mind of what his wife should be doing, just to stop him from complaining. There was nothing but lust in her eyes, seductively lidded to entice him closer. And if there had been a mirror, Mick was fairly certain he wouldn't have shared the same expression.

What was _wrong_ with him? Here was his elusive, smoking hot coworker, in her right mind and waiting for him to jump on top of her and bang her senseless, and he was upset because she didn't mean it. It wouldn't be fun for him and the sniper could just _see_ himself stopping halfway through, too distraught that her heart wasn't in it. Never before had indifference been such a turn-off; though he'd never been married, if only to avoid bothersome law enforcement.

The mental block was an entirely new concept for him. There Gina was, lying there highly exposed, covered only by a thin layer of lace (in his favorite color, no less), posed as erotically as possible, expectantly gazing into his eyes, and he was entirely unable to work up any desire to give her what she was pretending to want.

"You don't mean it," he responded simply, figuring she would understand he'd seen through her forced lust and suggest they go out to eat instead.

Instead her mouth dropped and her whole body visibly twitched, eyes narrowing into a vicious glare. The sensual smirk was replaced with an angry frown as she sat up and nearly shouted at him, "Are you serious?"

He blinked. What was she mad about? He was the one with a stubborn wife who played "let's ignore the groom because every decision he makes is dumb according to me" and _that_ was reason to be upset. If she had an itch she wanted scratched that was fine, he could oblige, but not if she was going to pretend they were anything like a _normal_, _loving_ just-married couple, because they obviously weren't, and Mick Rawson hated getting played.

"I should be asking you the same. In fact, I would, if I didn't know the answer. No, you're not serious, I don't know what you want, _love_, but you're not interested in being, you know, together, which means we're not on remotely the same page," he scowled, leaning back against the wall and trying to look as distant as possible, despite the war raging inside him.

He really should have just jumped on top of her and shown her why the ladies loved him, instead of turning into a terribly introspective emotional wreck and refusing because she didn't _love_ him. As if that had _ever_ been important before and now he was throwing what was assuredly going to be his only chance to get with the blonde away, all thanks to his realization she did mean too much to him to be another one of his 'rough nights' he barely remembered the name of.

"What in the world are you talking about? Here I am, the girl you've been trying to bang since you met her, and you're making up some stupid excuse? You've got to be kidding me, Mick," she rolled her eyes, pursing her lips. It was a warning sign she was getting very annoyed with something stupid he was doing. Perhaps he had misjudged the situation, or she was just incredibly horny.

"Look, if you're not, eh, emotionally into it, I won't have it. I just can't, alright?" the Brit sighed, turning to face a particularly interesting corner of the room. Eye contact was out of the question after such a confession – it barely even made sense how he'd phrased it and any more detail was out of the question.

She was silent for a while, apparently carefully going over his words. Mick was still able to feel the blonde's eyes on him, trying to bore inside of his mind. What an idiot he was. Now she'd go and tell Beth and Prophet the FBI's most eligible bachelor couldn't get it up if his girl of choice wasn't writing love poetry to him.

He really must have been lost inside his head, because he didn't hear her approach as she predatorily crawled off the bed and leapt.

Gina's lips were on his before the sniper had a chance to recognize she'd moved at all, and her legs wrapped around his waist so suddenly he stumbled forward and onto the bed, only to be quickly rolled over. Now that she was actually forcing her tongue into his mouth his bleeding heart sentimentalism flew out the window, along with the notion this didn't mean anything to her. That or she was _really_ incredibly horny.

The blonde pulled back slightly, keeping him firmly in place with her thighs, not that he would have tried to escape. It was evident she had something very important to say by the intense stare she met his eyes with, and she ran her lips over his once more for good measure before stating it, "If you think I would _ever_ sleep with you just to get my rocks off, you're an idiot. I simply want to confirm my husband is a keeper and lives up to his, shall we say, highly-recommended reputation."

Her final word was accentuated with another deep kiss, clearly expressing her hoped direction for the evening. Mick returned the action with equal fervor, content she was being honest with him.

"You're the bloody most beautiful girl," he whispered, and Gina Rawson genuinely smiled.

* * *

><p>Mick's hands running through her hair, parting it into tiny segments, startled the blonde. After their first passionate encounter, he'd suggested they shower to prepare for dinner, which of course led to shower sex. She'd requested a moment to rest, citing sore thighs, and was a bit perturbed when he'd asked she face away from him. The Brit had curled up to her and she was close to sleep when he began toying with her hair.<p>

A comb ran through it, removing the tangles until it was flat and damp across her back, trailing onto the pillow between them. He pulled gently, massaging her scalp wherever he grabbed hair from, slowly braiding the left side of her head.

"Are you French braiding?" she asked curiously, rather surprised he would know how to do it so tenderly, or at all.

"I had a little sister going to school when it became a sin in Wales to go without French braids. So I learned. I know a fair few other styles as well, but there'll be time for those later," he smirked, pressing his lips into her hair as he pulled another perfectly-sized clump to braid.

She fell silent, allowing him to work without distraction. The tugs became less noticeable as he completed pulling the hair into thirds and was working on finishing the end, away from her head. Leaning over to pull a hairband out of her suitcase, he tied the braid off and examined his handiwork in triumph, motioning for her to roll over.

The Brit swiftly climbed over her, combing through the remaining half of hair. Gina finally spoke again, her voice quiet, knowing he'd be listening closely and there was no need to ruin the moment with the wrong tone.

"My sister made me learn how so I could braid her hair, but she refused to braid mine. She didn't want us to look the same, because then I might be as good as her."

"Nah, you never could be. You're better."

"Love you too, sweetiekins."

"Love you more, sugarplum."

* * *

><p>Jenna Rawson stared at her television screen in expected mortification. Her brother's Special Forces photograph gazed back, accompanied by a description of a female companion masquerading as his wife.<p>

"Former Special Forces soldier Mick Rawson, a world-renowned sniper, is the subject of a Scotland Yard investigation for falsifying claims regarding his marriage to an as-yet unidentified woman. If you have any information on his whereabouts, please contact SY."

She tossed another kernel of popcorn in her mouth and changed the channel.

* * *

><p>Penelope Garcia was elated. Cooper had given her permission to speed up the marriage license between her favorite British hunk and his lovely new wife, and she just received notification it was fully processed. The tech was now $2,000 richer and two of her close friends were saddled together for life.<p>

There was the small matter of a hunt for tips regarding Mick's location, or the identity of his so-called imposter wife, but that was no real obstacle. Their marriage was official now, so when Scotland Yard finally did apprehend the couple there would be nothing they could do. They'd simply look stupid trying to make a big scene out of a happy pair of newlyweds simply trying to enjoy their romantic getaway weekend once it was revealed they were indeed married.

The Red Cell team would be returning in about an hour, if the flight schedule was accurate, and she could work on collecting her dues from the profilers. They might try and stall because Mick and Gina hadn't returned to America yet, but it was inevitable. There was no question in Penelope's mind that the couple would be sneaking into jumbo jet bathrooms to join the mile high club as a couple, their rings snugly wrapped around their fingers with no sign of coming off.

Her other teams had all just concluded cases as well, leaving the tech plenty of time to snoop around Quantico for rumors. Whispers of two renegade profilers on the run from Scotland Yard were circulating quietly among the interns. It was claimed that Strauss was seething, absolutely furious a team was allowed to get away with such shenanigans. She tried so hard to stifle the BAU team Penelope loved dearly that it infuriated the woman another one was free from the regulations binding the rest of the teams.

Fickler, on the other hand, was either not aware of the situation or keeping silent about it. His secretary had no comment in the lunchroom on the matter and, of course, Cooper was on an airplane and couldn't be reached.

Gina's family declined to provide an opinion on the subject as well, from what Penelope could determine. As far as she knew, the blonde profiler's father had called Cooper after being called by Mick and that was all the general had to say on the subject. That was clue number two the couple would be staying together – the Brit had actually bothered to consult Gina's father before proposing. The first was, naturally, their suffocating attraction to one another.

It struck Penelope as somewhat amusing two profilers had backed out of such a rich pot when the stars were so obviously aligned in favor of whoever bet the pair would come back married. She wasn't a profiler by job description, but Penelope Garcia was an empathy extraordinaire and she did _not_ miss hints. She also didn't miss the chance to scam two supposed experts of human behavior out of a thousand dollars each.

Still, the real reason to celebrate (or mourn) was the knowledge possible lifelong bachelor Mick was able to settle down with a nice girl. Penelope didn't want to see him in twenty years realizing his youth was gone and, assuming he lived a normal lifespan, over half his life had gone by without any meaningful romantic relationship, or the positive outcome of one. The hacker was content to know his happiness provided her an extra two grand.

* * *

><p>Jack Fickler was a patient, collected man. He did not act out irrationally or with malice nor did he yell. He simply controlled his tone carefully, making it very clear he was displeased with a situation.<p>

But these two Red Cell agents were tugging at his last nerve. The phone call he received from an old associate at Scotland Yard, demanding information on their whereabouts, was close to the final straw. The director had _calmly_ explained the two agents were very much in love and intending to wed shortly, thus they referred to each other, prematurely, as spouses. The other man was not as convinced, though the moment he hung up, Fickler slammed the phone back to its receiver.

His instructions had been quite clear: no more stupid decisions, Mr. Rawson. Apparently neither profiler considered causing an international incident over their fake-but-not-really marriage to be a stupid decision. That or they simply hadn't thought it would become such a problem.

But now they were _hiding_ from Scotland Yard? Ridiculous.

Sam had claimed they were merely waiting for the marriage license to pass, something Penelope was working on speeding up, so they couldn't be accused of falsely representing their relationship status. Now he had FBI techs hacking into international systems. The newlyweds were on their own. Fickler wasn't going to bail them out; Cooper could if they wound up in trouble with the law. His job was done. There was only one thing he could do in a situation like this, so the director pulled his phone out.

Angry Birds was soon loading.

* * *

><p>All is well, more or less. The profilers can't evade Scotland Yard forever (or can they?), but for now, things are pretty good for everyone. Except Beth and Prophet, they're still out $1000 each, but hey, it's their own fault - never bet against Penelope!<p>

Regarding the opening, I thought it'd be interesting if the flirty ladies' man encountered a situation where he realized cheap thrills wasn't actually what he wanted. And then the girl is just like 'wat' but everything goes ok in the end. Remember to leave your thoughts if you liked the chapter and thanks for reading!


	15. In Which Bollocks Bloomin' Takes Place

Hi ho all, back with another chapter! This is probably the only one that's all one scene but it's longer than at least half the others so.. heh.

**Disclaimer**: I only own the DVDs.

Thanks to all my readers and reviewers for staying tuned in to the story. The action is starting to pick up now and this is only just the start of things. What will happen next? Stay tuned! And be sure to read the author notes down at the bottom for news on my upcoming story plans and some thoughts from watching the commentaries off the DVD. Also to all my fellow Farmvillers LOL be nice to customer service you can get legit bank in free stuff for your troubles. It's a good day to have one of your _free_ Turbo Chargers only plant half your field C:.

* * *

><p>"For the thousandth bloody time, my wife and I didn't do anything wrong," Mick shouted, unwaveringly glaring at the Scotland Yard officer across the interrogation table from him. The pair had been taken into custody mere hours ago and already they were being asked the same mundane questions over and over, each time giving the same responses.<p>

"Falsifying your marital status to take advantage of public services is a serious offense, Mr. Rawson, but as a _soldier_ I wouldn't expect you to know the domestic laws of Her Royal Highness' land," the stocky, balding man snorted, disdain for the former Special Forces member dripping from his tone.

"Now you see here you ignorant little prat, if I wasn't out defending this bloody island you'd be bloody out of a bloomin' job!" the sniper yelled, and Gina recognized the warning signs of an upcoming screaming fit between the men. The officer's partner seemed to foresee the same result and tugged on the shorter man's arm, turning to whisper in his ear they were getting nowhere.

"Blimey govnah, what's all this bollocks about? Say it straight up why you went about pretending to be legally wed, old sport," the second officer rasped in a very thick accent when the pair finally came to a conclusion on what to do. Gina could barely understand what he'd said and was somewhat relieved to see even Mick had to take a second to decipher the man's bizarrely heavy dialect.

"I told you, mate, the wife and I got engaged before leaving America, where we're _FBI agents_, mind you, and decided to marry once my sister recovered from her accident. Now you've gone and arrested a bloke whose only family was dancing with the angel of death, not to mention ruined the lovely lady's honeymoon," Mick recited once again, hoping Scotland Yard would finally get the memo.

"My good chap, you didn't have any sort of reservations or plans until your con was revealed in an office of the law," the first officer pointed out haughtily, thinking he finally had managed to catch the couple in a lie.

Mick looked so astonished at his stupidity that Gina answered for him, "Because the hospital wasn't sure his sister would wake up at all, much less when she'd be ready to attend a wedding?"

"Sounds to me like an _excuse_. You didn't have the bloomin' honeymoon planned either, doll," he laughed, though it was a crude and rather offensive honk as opposed to any decent sort of sound.

"Excuse me, _govnah_, you don't call her that. Show some respect, she outranks you in the law enforcement world, bloody petty street rat officer. Why would we have a hotel room booked if we didn't have a wedding date sent? Come on, mate, think a little here, I know it's hard for you but this is an insult to our trade," the sniper snapped, rising from his chair slightly to look more intimidating.

"Oh boy, bloke's getting defensive 'bout his broad. Maybe if we rough her up enough he'll talk to save his dahling little princess," the shorter male smirked, eyes narrowing on the blonde, who leaned back to hide as best she could behind her husband.

"If you even think about it I will have you fired so fast your bloody empty head will spin right off your ugly lump of a body," Mick coolly threatened, eyes narrowing at the other man as though he was just _daring_ the officer to push his luck.

"Look at this, he's a lively one, eh old sport? We can't prove his bollocks is bollocks with them denying it and all this, and who's to say a Special Forces bachelor isn't going to let himself be chained down to a pretty blonde? I'd certainly hit her, without a doubt," the thickly-accented officer chuckled, seemingly lost in his own head as he continued rambling.

The male profiler saw red. Not only were these low-class officers treating him like he was a nobody, but now they were making terribly inappropriate remarks about Gina. She was an innocent party in the entire situation, sans her saying yes to faking the marriage, marrying him, and booking it to a remote castle.

He did the only logical thing to get their attention as the men discussed which hole the blonde preferred it in – he flipped the flimsy interrogation table right onto their laps.

"Blimey govnah you're bloomin' insane! Old sport's gone mad, sound the alarms!" trumpeted the second one, flailing in his chair to get the table off him. Instead he simply knocked his chair over and sent the table flying further onto his body.

The short one let out a massive string of curses, struggling to grab his radio and demand backup. Mick lunged for the other one's phone, which had slid towards the detained profilers, and quickly began dialing Cooper's number.

"Coop, it's me Mick, these bloody idiot Scotland Yard hacks have arrested us and keep running in circles. Get us released or something mate, they're going on all these vile tangents about forcing their bloody ugly rubbish onto poor Gina, it's absolutely impossible to bear," he rapidly explained to the team leader, who listened intently to the sniper's words above the racket of the yelling officers.

The room's door flew open, revealing two more officers with what looked like tasers in the doorway.

"Drop the phone, mate," one commanded, his accent strangely absent compared to some of the other officers'.

"Drop these bloody outrageous charges," Mick snapped, though he placed the phone on the ground regardless. Gina had remained seated the entire time and looked patiently at the two men in the door, as if seconding her partner's demand.

"Can't do that now that you've flipped a bloomin' table," he sniffed, eying the dislocated furniture with disdain.

"Fickler and I will fly over at once," came Cooper's disjointed voice from the phone, still near Mick's feet.

"Turn that bloody mess off like he said!" yelled the balding officer, finally succeeding in removing the table from his personal self.

"He said drop it, not disconnect the call," Gina pointed out calmly, appearing fairly unfazed by the vulgar comments, flipped table and generally ridiculous series of events.

"Listen to me officers, the director of the FBI is going to show up at your doorstep in less than a day, and he's going to solve this situation, and then he's going to tell your superiors just how poorly or properly you handled it. Just for the record, one of his groomsmen was the current head of Scotland Yard," Cooper directed, raising his voice so everyone could hear it through the mobile's speakers.

The four officers gathered by the doorway, glancing scornfully at the profilers while they discussed what to do. Finally the one with the thickest accent turned to the pair, "Eh govnahs, we'll place you under house arrest until your chaps arrive, then we'll bloomin' lock you up for years!"

Gina opened her mouth to point out in the unlikely instance Scotland Yard could prove any severe repercussions had resulted from the marriage deception, or even that it was a sham intended to con someone, the punishment would be no more than a year, but considering they were being released from the station, which reeked of gravy, she decided to simply remain quiet and be escorted out in peace.

Mick wasn't so controlled and he did begin to say something, but she shot a leg out to nudge his shin; he rethought the decision and silenced himself, glaring at the officers.

Their handcuffs were removed after the later-arriving officers escorted the profilers out and to booking.

"Now listen, you don't leave your sister's flat. That would be a very, very bad move for you, mate," the one lacking much of an accent threatened, holding a fierce stare with Mick. Eventually the Scotland Yard man backed down and the sniper smirked victoriously, holding the door open for Gina but quickly letting it swing shut before the officer could follow her too closely.

The ride back to Jenna's apartment was quiet but tense, an obvious clash of two egotistical alpha males locked in a silent battle of dominance. They were escorted to her door and greeted by the younger Rawson, who eyed the officer like he was an idiot. He scowled back, but soon looked away from the girl, who smiled triumphantly and after listening to his speech on the terms of the house arrest, slammed the door in his face and locked it.

"Married for a day and already arrested? That's my big brother," the brunette girl winked, briefly hugging her sibling before trotting back to watching television and texting.

"Yeah well there'd be no trouble if these bloody idiots could properly enforce laws and go after actual criminals instead of madly-in-love FBI agents," Mick huffed, flopping down onto the expansive arm of the chair Jenna was sitting in.

Gina didn't show any outward expression towards the declaration, but internally she was shell-shocked. Sure he could have been teasing, but his tone was annoyed as opposed to amused. She silently retreated to the spare room, closing the door to block out the television's low hum. This wasn't fooling airline security so she could sit next to a grieving brother anymore.

And it was concerning.

They did 'love' each other, as friends, and the sex was certainly nice, but here Mick Rawson was, with the words 'in love' leaving his mouth while referring to himself. It was entirely possible his statement wasn't serious, but he had flat-out refused to have sex with her if she didn't feel some emotional attachment, and that was _very_ uncharacteristic of a dedicated bachelor. Then again, he could be playing her, seeing how much she'd admit to and then he'd laugh it off as a temporarily fling, all for fun.

If so, she'd ruin him in the divorce settlement. What if he never asked for a divorce, though? He hadn't once spoken of it since the wedding and he seemed genuinely interested in staying together. It was almost funny – here they were back in his home country, where the eternal flirt sniper would've had a girl in every town, and he only had eyes for her.

The blonde frowned; it was also rather deluded to think she would be so much more special than any of the other women he'd left in the past. Especially now that the 'thrill of the chase' was over. They'd slept together after admitting to something more, essentially concluding any interesting part of the hunt to a serial dater.

Unless he wanted a child and thought she was a good choice to mother his offspring. That was just plain creepy unsub territory, and the Brit would never resign his children to an obviously messed-up situation like that. Plus he knew she had no desire for a family and wouldn't be the ideal mother compared to someone young and eager for kids.

She realized the iPhone was still in her pocket and pulled the device out, unlocking the screen to open Facebook. Gina almost missed the new background – a photo Jenna had taken of their somewhat awkwardly brief wedding kiss. That was slightly unexpected, he never changed his background. It had always been a picture of the Rawson siblings from before he left England, even though his phone had changed several times since then. His iPhones had a penchant for meeting unpleasant ends long before their time, though since they took up sharing use of it back in America so she could play Angry Birds, this specific phone fared quite well.

There was an unread text message, possibly from Cooper, and she tapped the SMS app. Gina's eyes widened – the text was most definitely _not_ from anyone on their team. Instead, one 'Laura – DON'T REPLY' had asked the Brit if, despite his new marriage, he was down to 'shove his huge cock' inside her again. The blonde was furious and quickly scanned the previous messages, wondering just who this chick was.

The last message sent by Mick was from months ago, declining any desire to ever see her again, followed by several requests to sleep together the next time he came to England, all sent by Laura. Her name may have been DON'T REPLY, but Gina was not going to stand for this _slut_ trying to sext her husband.

'Hi Laura, this is Mick's wife, if you don't want to have your life ruined, you'll never even think about my husband again. He doesn't like loose skanks such as yourself, so leave him alone.'

Satisfied the threat would be nullified, Gina sent her message and threw the phone down in frustration. How long would desperate girls go on texting a married man? And what did her 'sweetiekins' think of them?

They were married so surely that justified a tad bit of snooping. She browsed, looking for unfamiliar female names and clicking. Surprisingly, they all read the same – an old one night stand or acquaintance asking for another good time and Mick either brushing them off due to being an ocean apart and not wanting to schedule anything when he hopefully wouldn't be back for a long time or saying he was married now. That was a bit unexpected; he was turning all these girls down, even when they weren't faking marriage.

She felt bad for prying when he wasn't violating her trust, but at least she knew. The door slowly opened and Gina dropped the phone, turning her attention to the doorway. In stepped Jenna, who quickly shut the door and trotted forward.

"Mick got bored of the polo match and he'll be in momentarily, so I have to be quick about it, but I want you to stay part of our family. He really does love you and he won't hurt you, if you give him a chance. I know other smart girls think he's just a player but he's my brother and I know if he could have one thing without changing the past he'd want someone who loves him, even though he's kinda dumb sometimes," the British girl quickly said, rushing to get through her entire thought before her brother showed up.

Gina wasn't quite sure what to say. This was everything the romantic, don't-leave-me side of her had wanted to hear, and she dearly wanted to accept it. Jenna looked inquisitively at her, obviously expecting a response, so the blonde gave the best one she could, "I can't make any promises, but we'll see how this works out."

She might have said more, but Mick tossed the door open and strode in, nodding to his sister, who knowingly retreated from the room, closing the door. The sniper pounced onto the bed, wrapping his arms around his wife.

"Laura wanted to know if you'd still bang her despite being married. I told her your wife wouldn't be very happy about that."

"Laura Don't Reply? She was a terrible lay the first time around, I just hope she listens to you," he sighed, not for the first time regretting having been drunk enough to shag the broad in the first place. The phone was swiftly tossed onto the nightstand, out of the way as the Brit used his weight to push her down onto the bed, pressing his lips against hers.

"Does it bother you that your sister is right outside, knowing you're about to screw some girl?"

"Well, it's not the first time by a long shot, though I think this may be the one moment she actually likes the girl; you made her genuinely happy."

"Just her?"

"And me," Mick smiled, and Gina determined this wasn't such a bad whirlwind of events after all.

* * *

><p>What's gonna happen when Coop and Fickler show up? Will things just be dismissed or will something more go down? Let's just say remember that giant diamond? ;)<p>

Anyway I was watching the commentary for Two of a Kind and if you don't have the DVD set, let me tell you it was actually episode 1.7! I'd bet money that Lonely Heart was the original 1.1 because of the 'team meets for first time/team enters gym for first time' deleted scenes. There's also commentary for Death by a Thousand Cuts. It's not for certain but judging from what they say, Beth would've survived. How exactly the whole thing was resolved is, of course, floating off in jerko-CBS-land but at least we can be FAIRLY certain she was going to live.  
>And.. the best part of all, in the first MickGina scene, the actors start talking about the chemistry between them and how obvious all the looks were.. they even asked Beau when M/G would first kiss then discussed how. Their preferred method was while kidnapped and confined, 'for comfort'. No mention of that pesky deleted fiance in sight. So.. even the actors saw it! All us M/G fans can celebrate LOL.

Now, as for my next stories.. I have a one shot based off their idea for a makeout scene (if actors were fanfic writers..), then another one shot involving the Red Cell team forced to attend a fancy ball/gala. After that I have an ACTUAL case fic, you know like with an actual case and stuff, it'll be multi-chaptered and still pretty funny. If you've ever seen the Mentalist, think The Red Ponies. That's your only hint. I'll start it after this one wraps up so be excited for some legit crime solving action.

Thanks for reading, everyone, and be sure to leave a review!


	16. In Which Angry Birds is NOT Played

Hello readers and reviewers! Here's Chapter.. 16, if my numbering is right, I'm starting to lose track! LOL too many numbers. Anyway, things are progressing smoothly with the fic, I know where it's going for a few more plotlines and then.. we'll see. I do have some more ideas, after all. Things are starting to get interesting, though, so don't tune out now! More figures are coming into the picture and the drama don't stop.

**Disclaimer**: Still only own the DVDs. But Jada you are SO RIGHT, if us FF writers were on the actual writing team the show would never die.

Thanks to my reviewers for leaving your thoughts, as always, all your opinions are very welcome. And thanks for reading as well, hope you enjoy!

* * *

><p>Two very suavely-dressed gentlemen strolled into the police station vacated hours ago by two very annoyed profilers. Their reflective sunglasses blocked all view of around half their faces and the briefcase carried by one had a menacing lock. The pair surveyed the three officers on duty, who took a few seconds to look up and notice the ominous duo.<p>

"I am Agent Smith. This is Agent Kerry. We understand you presently have a couple under house arrest, their charges are falsifying marital status for person gain; it is imperative we speak with them at once," the taller of the two bluntly explained, his voice only slightly slurred by an Eastern European accent. The officers nervously glanced at each other – this was not a British officer in any capacity, and who knew what sect of Interpol the agents were with.

"Top of the mornin', govnah, pleasant to be makin' your acquaintance. I'm McHollister, this is Spak and that's O'Harry," the thickly-accented officer from earlier in the day greeted, holding a hand up to wave, though he hoped it wasn't shaking too noticeably.

"Your names are of little consequence. We require the Rawsons immediately," Kerry deadpanned, dismissing the man's jovial introduction. His accent sounded vaguely French, and the thin moustache seconded a France birthplace.

"Regrettin' to inform you but they're on house arrest, director of the Eff-Bee-Eye himself's flyin' over to deal with er'rything. Blimey, mate, I don't dare introduce any more chaps to those two what with the director and all," Spak, the portly officer shrugged, running a wavering hand through his thinning hair.

Smith and Kerry kept their faces emotionless, but turned to each other to confer. It was evident they were clearly not pleased the director of the FBI would be getting involved, as that only meant political battles and an even more difficult time getting straight answers. Finally they faced the officers again, who had congregated next to each other, if only to appear more threatening as a group than on opposite sides of the room.

"Do you recall the woman's engagement ring?" Smith queried while Kerry placed the briefcase on a table and began to unlock it.

"Blimey, we'd have to be queer to have been lookin' at her ring when she's bloomin' hot, what sort of bollocks are you on about, old sport? Bob's _my_ uncle if I took one look at her hands when she had those nice…" McHollister chuckled, before the loud 'thud' of the briefcase's side hitting the table as it swung open silenced him.

"That ring is her most impressive asset. The diamond, a flawless 7.1 carats, is valued at $450,000. Up until two months ago, it was on display at a Dubai museum until its theft in a large jewel heist. We have been tracking the entire batch and recovered all but this diamond, which was shipped to Argentina and apparently America. It is imperative we obtain the diamond at once, before she realizes the true value," Kerry elaborated, dragging on in a monotonous tone as he pulled a highly-detailed, enlarged photo of the diamond out of the briefcase and showed it to the officers.

"You blokes have some sorta badge, eh?" O'Harry asked, wary about such high-stakes business. The men could be part of the thief ring that stole the diamond in the first place and later lost track of it.

Two cryptic Interpol badges were promptly produced, held up for the officers to examine. They nodded their heads, in agreement the agents were legit.

"How'd Blondie wind up with that bollocks?" wondered Spak as he pulled up Jenna's address to tell the men where their missing diamond could be found.

"From what we can gather, it was misplaced in a shipment of legitimate diamonds and the actual diamond intended for that ring mount wound up at the buyer of the stolen diamond. The store lazily declined to notice the different and instead sold the diamond as an engagement ring, purchased by Gina LaSalle who was later reimbursed for the transaction by Mick Rawson, who deposited its store price of $100,000 into her banking account after collecting the sum from various sources, some of which may need to be looked in to," Kerry impatiently detailed, eager to get back on the road and obtain the last stolen jewel.

This one diamond almost got them fired – their boss claimed it should have been found two weeks ago at the latest and only through analyzing numerous security cameras and their footage had they been able to track the diamond on its journey back across the Atlantic, on Gina's finger. The value of such a pricey gemstone, and the owner of its collection, prompted a certain expediency in the matter.

"We got the address right here, old sport, tally ho, onwards to the stone!" McHollister chortled, handing over a small note with the address to Jenna's flat scribbled onto it.

The agents nodded their thanks and promptly left, ready for the mission to be over. Unfortunately, there were two things wrong with their goal, neither of which was caught as they stepped into their black, tinted-window Maserati and drove off. Only after they wound up boxed in by an over-anxious pimp in his PT Cruiser, offering them up to three of his finest prostitutes for the price of one, did they realize Jenna Rawson most certainly did _not_ live on 99th Street.

Rather, McHollister's chicken scratched '44' only looked like a '99'. To make matters worse, the briefcase remained on the table right inside the door to the station, forgotten in the agents' rush to recover the lone gemstone evading their grasp.

Or, more accurately, it had remained on the table until an inconspicuous chimney sweep, intently scanning the interior of the room and waiting for all the officers to be safely out of view, pushed open the door, hooked his sweep around the briefcase's handles, and tugged it right on out. He ducked into a black Rolls-Royce, windows just as tinted as the last black car to approach the station, waiting on the street, and it sped off, none of the officers having noticed the briefcase was accidentally abandoned to begin with.

* * *

><p>Mick Rawson did not care about polo. His sister loved watching men in suspiciously metrosexual uniforms trot about on ponies with pretty ribbons braided in their hair trying to score, and that was fine by him. She could watch her boring polo matches and he would watch the <em>real<em> action – massive warm bloods running over a mile in as short a time as possible. Usually, he would simply leave the house when she had a polo marathon on, however leaving was not an option – they were on house arrest because his now-official and perfectly legal wedding had some dumb, bored gypsy policemen up in arms. He also couldn't change the channel, because this was not his television nor his flat.

As such, he was huddled up in his sister's spare room, with his equally-bored wife. She didn't care about polo either, which was somewhat fortunate as they could be disinterested in the sport together. Instead of watching polo ponies prance about, she was on _his_ iPhone, Facebooking about how wonderful it was to be Gina Rawson and how sweet her new husband was.

The new husband who was blankly staring at the taupe ceiling, imagining it was a dusty dirt racetrack and there was a herd of horses storming around it, each trying to beat the other.

He cried out in horror when one of his pretend Thoroughbreds stumbled, falling to the ground (or, more accurately, the ceiling), its jockey crushed beneath the equine's weight. Gina whirled around to face him, concerned he was having an early heart attack brought on by his excessive immaturity.

"Oh, eh, I was just uh, daydreaming," he stuttered, hoping she'd take the squeal of mortification as the horse's racing career ended as a moan of pleasure. Her eyes narrowed – perhaps she wasn't buying it. Or perchance she _was_…

"Were you? Let me guess – was Maddy Lovertits in it? Or maybe Gloria Stokes?" she spat, rotating her gaze from the Brit's face to his phone and the messaging app, which apparently had received a few text from old 'rough nights' who were eager for a second go.

"The first was a stripper at one of my old mates' bachelor parties but one of the other blokes said she had crabs so I stayed away from her, the second I don't recall in the slightest. Tell them to leave me alone or don't reply at all," Mick scowled, ripping his attention away from his fictional racetrack and thinking hard about the names.

"They'll be the seventh and eighth girls I do. These English women don't really understand monogamous marriages, do they? It's a good thing _you_ do," Gina hinted, eyes slanting further as the faintest traces of venom dripped into her tone.

"Nah, they're down for a good throw with anyone. I, on the other hand, have certain standards, such as being faithful when in a committed relationship. Especially when the girl understands dental care," he winked, looping an arm casually through hers and tugging her down onto his chest, the phone carelessly sliding out of her grasp and onto the bed, soon kicked off as things began heating up again and forgotten.

* * *

><p>Most people who met Sam Cooper would consider him fairly even-headed, if a bit eccentric and excitable at times. Those who knew Jack Fickler swore up and down the man never lost his temper and simply spoke his even tone, dragging certain words out, never wavering in inflection, to let you know you'd screwed up.<p>

However, the two Interpol suits attempting to prosecute the entire Scotland Yard agency because they had left their very critical briefcase on the table closest to the door and it wound up, shall we say, misplaced, combined with the generally inept British hick officers, were enough to drive both Americans over the edge of tranquility.

"Excuse me, _gentlemen_, my name is Jack Fickler, _Director of the FBI_. I'm here to clear up the unscrupulous charges regarding two of my agents' marital status. I can _assure_ you that Agent Rawson knew not to make any stupid choices and was not acting outside the law," Fickler finally bellowed, still calmly, to silence the feuding men.

They stared at him, rather confused, before O'Harry finally asked, "Er, which Rawson ya mean, old sport? Blimey, they both Agent Rawrsins now, eh govnahs?"

Coop and Fickler exchanged a glance that could only spell trouble for the intellectually-stifled officers.

"It… doesn't matter which one. Really, it doesn't. Please, go retrieve them so we can resolve this issue," the director ordered, bringing his right hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose.

"O'Harry, mate, let's bring these blokes back in, blimey we'll make this quick, like a Frenchman's sex life," McHollister guffawed, slapping his knee at his own joke as Cooper shook his head. Kerry shot a death glare at the Brit, reaching to his hip to run a hand over the semi-automatic gun resting in its holster.

"This was a horrible idea," Coop whispered to his friend, who could only nod in agreement.

* * *

><p>"Look, mate, I am entirely positive handcuffs are not necessary. You've got the bloody director of the FBI, and our boss, right at the station, where do you think we'll go? Plus you could bruise the lady's wrists, and that, my good chaps, would be a terrible travesty," Mick pointed out, holding his hands safely out of reach of the Scotland Yard officers, who kept insisting they be restrained like Hawaiian pork roasts.<p>

"Eh, blimey, I suppose so. But any funny stuff from you and we'll plant a bullet right where her mouth just was, hear me?" O'Harry chuckled, exchanging a dirty smirk with McHollister as the latter climbed into the driver's seat.

Mick and Gina looked at each other in silence, not understand the damp officers' joke. Finally it occurred to Mick they were referring to oral sex, and he let out an offended gasp, "Now see here, _mate_, I told you to show some respect to her! I'll have you fired in an instant you ungrateful son of a…"

"Blimey, mate, stop your bollocks! We was just havin' a bit of a tease, it was only about you lovebirds anyway, settle your dumplings," McHollister slurred, babbling on, but the profilers were caught up on being told to 'settle their dumplings'.

Gina turned to Mick, silently mouthing what he meant. Mick shrugged and replied he'd never once heard the phrase, and would have liked things to remain as such. These officers were unbearably dense and their accents were wretched countryside dialects. Despite being born and raised in Wales, Mick had a horrid time fully understanding what the officers were actually trying to communicate, their English was so skewed.

The couple snuggled up next to each other in the center of the vehicle, the sniper wrapping an arm protectively around his wife so the men would stop disrespecting her. Even if he was the subject of an international marriage sham there was no excuse to be so rude to his wife – she was (fairly) innocent of the whole thing. Sure she'd picked out the expensive ring, and said yes to marrying him, and said 'I do' at the altar, but those could all be deemed 'victim of circumstance' reactions. As such, in his opinion it was entirely unfair to be treating Gina like a common criminal. And the lack of recognition he was receiving – the _top_ Special Forces sniper when he left, he commanded much more decency than these uncultured savages were showing him.

So self-absorbed in his own ranting and planting butterfly kisses in his bride's hair was Mick that he didn't notice the black sedan running a red light…

Until the police car went spiraling out of control.

* * *

><p>Oh dear! What will happen to our dear profilers next, and how long before Fickler goes off on a rage? How will poor Garcia take the news? Stay tuned to find out, and thanks for reading! Leave a review if you could (:<p> 


	17. In Which a Scheme Unfolds

Yikes, what a cliffhanger! Fortunately for you all, I felt inspired/had the plan for this next chapter, so here we go, back with another update. Also YAY celebration time, we hit 50 reviews! Thanks to everyone who has given their feedback on this fic, you guys are awesome (:

**Disclaimer**: wish I owned show/wrote for it, sadly, I don't.

Hope you guys enjoy the next chapter, it's quite action-packed! Thank you for reading and be sure to leave a review if you could.

* * *

><p>The instant a Rolls-Royce slammed into the police car, Mick sprang into action, following his sniper training – always protect women, children and innocent civilians. The vehicles had collided on Gina's side of the car, and at the first jolt of impact he quickly unbuckled her seatbelt and tugged her over his lap, nearly shoving the blonde against the door. The officers in the front were stunned, and as the sedan backed out from the side of their car, McHollister slumped, unmoving. O'Harry fumbled with his gun, pure horror on his face.<p>

Mick, trained for unexpected and possibly hostile situations, reacted much better. He watched carefully, eyes not missing a thing, as the Rolls-Royce came to a stop several feet away and two men, dressed in all black, leapt out of the passenger and back doors. The driver door opened, revealing the end of the gun. The other two had ski masks but no weapons. The sniper reached for the keys, still in the ignition, and ripped them out before shoving the side door open and dragging Gina out behind him.

"Move, _now_!" he yelled at her, sprinting for the opposite side of the street. The attackers were approaching the police car from the crashed side and the driver was apparently loading his gun, giving them enough time to get away. The blonde lagged behind, a victim of shorter legs and less muscle, though she never let go of Mick's outstretched hand, pulling her along.

Whoever the assailants were, they spelled trouble – if it had been an accident the driver wouldn't have what looked like an automatic at his convenient reach, nor would his passengers be disguising their faces with black cotton. They rounded the building's corner, now a full block away from the crime, and Mick glanced up, noticing a fairly-large open window several feet above his head.

"Quick love, stand on my shoulders and climb through, then pull me up," he commanded, and Gina silently obeyed, waiting for the Brit to kneel so she could hop onto his back and grasp the window. When she was partially through she turned and offered him a hand. She lost balance trying to pull him being halfway in and out herself and fell inside, knocking the table below the window over, but Mick quickly stood back up, promptly helping to right her.

"They're expecting us to keep running. We're going to loop back and take their car. The driver is out but he won't have taken the key, they need to quickly capture us and evacuate the scene," Mick explained, hushing her so he could listen as the men ran by, speaking a foreign language and apparently trying to determine which way to go. From the sound of things, they split up, which was bad news for the profilers – if one of them doubled back he could easily spot the couple, and if it was the one with an automatic they were quite possibly done for.

The sniper took off running once again, dragging his wife through the cubicles. They had apparently broken into an office building closing down for the evening, judging by the layout and how few people were left to stare at them in shock. The pair skidded to a stop at the door, Mick cautiously glancing outside. O'Harry was still in the car, fussing over McHollister, whose face was a sickly shade of white and splattered with blood.

Sprinting out of the office, Mick headed straight for the car, paling as one of the attackers rounded the far corner of the building while they were halfway across the street, still free of traffic. Concerned onlookers had stopped their cars, watching in horror. Several were on their phones, calling in the incident, while others were frightfully wringing their hands.

"Get in the passenger side!" he shouted at Gina, who kept following him, prompting him to clarify, "It's the _other_ side in England, love!"

She nodded and opened the door, slamming it as he hopped the hood, ripping the door open and jumping in, starting the engine before he was even seated. Their assailant ran at them, yelling at his wrist to signal he'd found their targets to his team, but without a gun he could do nothing but jump out of the way when Mick revved the engine, smashing his foot onto the gas.

The Rolls-Royce roared back to life, front barely damaged due to obviously non-standard plating. Mick swerved it haphazardly through the parked cars, whose drivers whipped their heads around to watch the sedan tearing through the crowded street. The man cursed in what sounded like Arabic as the other two emerged onto the street, one firing at the car.

Gina ducked, flattening herself to the seat as best as she could, though the bullets never made it inside. One of the other men was at the driver's side door of the police car, shouting profanities when he realized the keys were gone. Cars realized they were in danger when the gun began firing its rounds and quickly reversed, fleeing the scene. Swiftly turning a corner, the bullets stopped, and Mick focused on not crashing. The narrow, residential streets were not made for luxury sports cars to scream through at top speed, but the situation called for a tad bit of strenuous driving.

He headed for the nearest freeway, not bothering to stay in London. The Rolls-Royce was limited on city roads and couldn't be trusted to outrun a pursuing vehicle with traffic lights and pedestrians. The police station was, of course, in London and where he should be headed, but that was not the safest place for Gina, and she was his main priority. It was unclear who the Arabians, assuming that's what they were, had intended as their target. Having fought in the Middle East, Mick was the only one who might have an enemy from the area, but there was no ruling out someone wanted Gina to get at her family. Even if she wasn't the most illustrious or popular LaSalle, she was still a member of the clan _and_ the FBI.

It never occurred to him the men could be chasing the diamond on her hand, which she kept fidgeting with as he cranked the wheel to turn up an onramp. The Rolls-Royce smoothly accelerated and he merged to the far lane, watching as other cars switched to make room for the speeding sedan, some honking bitterly at him.

"Why didn't they take the police car? I can't see anyone following us," Gina remarked, keeping careful watch on the rear view mirror.

He dangled the keys, jingling them so she'd notice before dropping them into one of the cup holders, "I took them from the ignition specifically so they wouldn't be able to use Scotland Yard's vehicle if we managed to steal theirs. Of course, it was a risk we'd even make it back to this thing and the key would actually be in the ignition, but better than just surrendering to some possible cop killers."

"What do you suppose they were after? I find it hard to believe those two halfwits could be anyone's target. Nobody would trust them with secret information, and we haven't done anything to get some highly classified organization on our tail, or at least not enough they'd kill a Scotland Yard officer over it."

"Look around the back, maybe there's some documents as to what their mission was," he suggested, keeping his eyes on the road. The Rolls-Royce was gunning it down the freeway at over a hundred miles an hour, though the gas meter was beginning to drop.

"I found a briefcase; it looks like they ripped the lock off of it. That was some heavy duty security, the top of it is practically incinerated. There are some pictures… of my ring," she paused, pulling up a glossy, high-definition snapshot of the unplaced diamond sitting on a glass surface.

"It's not the ring, just the diamond. Surveillance footage of us, zoomed in on my hand, at the airport coming over here. There's maps of South America and all over with some sort of lines, like they were charting something. Do you think this diamond was stolen?" Gina concluded, sorting through the papers.

"You know, it just might be. Look at the thing – it's gigantic, but priced at only a hundred grand. Seems a tad undervalued, not to say I'm a diamond expert. Is there any identification as to who owned the briefcase, though from the damage done to open the locks we can be fairly certain it was stolen anyway."

She held one of the thin sheets of data up to the window, scanning the sheet for any watermarks. A small one in the corner read 'ITSI', which she relayed to the Brit.

"Could be Interpol Trafficking and Smuggling Investigations. They're… not exactly official Interpol thoroughfare – high-end clients complain about a theft of some valuable or other and these guys are assigned to the task, instead of mercenaries and private, ahem, investigators. Usually winds up with less dead bodies this way," he explained after a moment of scanning through old acronyms he knew.

"Do you think those guys were Interpol? They had Middle Eastern accents and weren't speaking English, I know that."

"Doubtful with the way that briefcase was destroyed, plus Interpol, even a less than legitimate offshoot of it, would never be so brash as to kill off police officers just to obtain a little bobble. They'd corner us in an interrogation room and take the ring, no explanations given, except maybe that it was stolen."

"So now we have rogue Interpol agencies after us, and some private _investigators_ looking to kill anyone who gets between them and this diamond? Plus the charges of illegitimate marriage claims for benefits. You know maybe you should've just told that chick on the phone we were cousins…"

"Excuse me, doll, how was I supposed to know we would wind up the target of an international jewel hunt? Or that anyone would even get suspicious about things and try to arrest us for marital status deception. Of all the nerve, they treat _me_ like a common criminal! I was the top Special Forces sniper all my years in the service and now it means nothing, I'm just _scum_ who goes about shamming people by pretending to be married. It's a terribly upsetting state of affairs the justice system has wound up in, just terrible…"

Gina smiled, half-listening to the Brit as he continued angrily rambling. Eventually his topic of choice shifted from Scotland Yard to how unfair it was his sister was hit in the first place and then he transitioned to complaining about the dangers of cars, citing the possible death of McHollister as a prime example.

"Oh, the fuel tank, it's getting a bit low," she pointed out about an hour later, when his rants had subsided for the most part. He looked and indeed, the high speed had drained the Rolls-Royce's gas supply to the last two bars. Glancing around, he saw exactly what he'd wanted.

"Luxury vehicle coastal drive. Perfect," he smirked, slowing down to merge over the seven lanes and take the scenic road intended for high-performance, high-cost vehicles.

"Are you sure this is a good place to hide, until Cooper can find us?"

"Perfectly – you would _never_ think to look for a stolen Rolls-Royce on a roadway intended for cars of its class. Plus, there are, well, little turnouts you can gate up and hide in the trees if you and the, usually, mistress want a spot of fun. We'll find a free one and those morons will be driving in circles trying to find us. Coop should figure it out, though."

She pursed her lips at the thought of waiting in some sort of car sex parking spot, but when she saw a Jaguar pulling out of one of the side roads and how far back the road actually went, realized it was an ideal spot to hide. Anyone looking for them would have three turnouts before this one, and need to assume they had indeed turned off and stopped. Mick parked the car inside the gate and hopped out to shut it, reminding her of forest service roads that were gated off, only this had no actual lock and simply slid into place, giving off the appearance the road was locked down.

He drove the sedan back into the forest and to the left, nestling it safely in the cove of trees. There was no way they could be seen from the main road, and anyone who tried to turn into a taken turnout would be put under immediate suspicion by the other luxury car drivers.

Rolls-Royce shut off, Mick turned to the blonde for what seemed like the first time in hours to look her over. He extended a hand to rub her arm, eyes tender as he asked, "You sure you're alright, love? I was so focused on getting away I didn't stop to make sure you weren't hurt."

"I'm fine, you pulled me away from the impact radius so I wasn't injured, just a little shaken up. I'm glad you react so well under crazy car attacks," she smiled, but there was a glimmer of fear in her eyes, hidden beneath the adrenaline rush. The blonde oozed 'comfort me' vibes, so when she leaned in, Mick obliged, rushing to kiss her.

He glanced towards the back seat, raising an eyebrow.

"We've got nothing else to do until Cooper figures where we are, and this is still our honeymoon week…"

"You, Mick Rawson, are my insatiable sweetiekins."

"And _only_ yours, sugarplum."

"I love you, honey."

* * *

><p>Jack Fickler was livid – not only had these Interpol hacks lost their 'very important and crucial' briefcase, but two of his top agents were now missing after their car was t-boned, rammed by a Middle Eastern looter sect looking to take the ridiculously-large diamond off Gina's finger. This was an outrage and he intended to complain to every notable European judicial figurehead he could about the ridiculous treatment his agents had suffered.<p>

So what if they preemptively called each other husband and wife? They were married now, blockheads they were, and no actual harm was done. Now they were who knew where, on the run from a group with no qualms about killing police officers to recover lost gems.

The Interpol agents were absolutely useless. What credible law enforcement officers actually _left_ such a critical briefcase, containing _every_ relevant bit of data on a situation, lying around? And right by the door. Even if an officer had noticed the theft, the robber would likely be gone, speeding away in whatever black car his cohorts had, before a gun could be drawn. It was an insult to the trade of protecting citizens.

Pertinent information was limited – Mick and Gina apparently made it into the attackers' black luxury car, which most witnesses agreed was a Rolls-Royce of some make. The sniper sped off down the road and was sighted going _well_ over the speed limit out of London on a super roadway. The windows were tinted, meaning nobody was able to confirm Gina was with him, but those with front row seats to the crash concurred there had been a blonde woman running with him up to the car, and as she couldn't be found, had climbed in.

One of the men was in custody; the other two had taken off down the road. McHollister was almost assuredly not going to wake up and O'Harry was a babbling train wreck, sitting at his fellow officer's side while nurses worked to treat his minor injuries.

Cooper was scanning maps of the freeway, trying to profile where Mick would have parked. The Rolls-Royce wouldn't last forever driving so fast, meaning the fuel tank was the limiting factor. Assuming it was three-quarters full when the crash happened, they wouldn't be able to reach the castle hotel they were at. Mick, a trained professional at finding safe houses in tense situations, would select somewhere too obvious to be the right answer, thus giving Coop the hint.

A luxury speedway overlooking the coast.

"Found them. Mick will be there – it's exactly the right spot to hide a Rolls-Royce in plain sight but nobody would think he'd be dumb enough to go on a luxury car road in a stolen luxury car on the run from cop killing thieves. Get me as much info as you can on this place and head out," Cooper commanded, glaring sternly at Kerry and Smith, who glanced at Spak, a sobbing mess in the corner of the room.

"We'll take our Maserati," Smith grunted, pulling the keys out.

Fickler grinned – this was his sort of retrieval mission.

* * *

><p>Poor McHollister! Now the race is on - who will find our favorite couple first? And what will ever become of the diamond? Stay tuned to find out, dear readers! Also I have a good idea for another casefic after the one I'm planning, a sequel to it I guess, so, hooray for more ideas lol. Thank you for reading and click the button below to leave a review if you could! Any thoughts you have on how things are progressing are welcome (:<p> 


	18. In Which Shots are Fired

Hi ho all, back with another chapter! I hope everyone is enjoying premiere week - I've been watching CBS every night, though I wish I could have a couple hours of my life back. Yesterday (well two days ago it's the Friday AM I suppose) was sort of bittersweet - for all us Criminal Minds fans, that was a great opener and it was SO WONDERFUL to have the team back together like they always should be. But... right after should have been SB and we get to see what happens to Beth, instead we got CSI and tentacle fetishes.. and air compresser a la SB's episode 1.12! Sigh. On the one hand, I don't have overly much confidence that SB wouldn't have gone downhill - CBS shows have a habit of being really good until some horribly out of character and idiotic storyline comes along and the show is just... tragic. Although the deleted fiance rubbish could have been the worst of SB's bad ideas, and hey, if everyone was feeling Mick/Gina, who knows what could've happened! At least we have our fics and we can ship the good ship.

Has anyone else watched the pilots? A Gifted Flop premieres tonight and I hope it tanks because it looks like garbage. I thought Unforgettable was dreck, SB was a much better show and CBS should have put it behind NCIS: LA for a night of three spinoffs (since NCIS is a spinoff) instead of waste-of-space Forgottenalready (no offense if you liked it of course, I simply thought there was a lot of predictability and unoriginality). Person of Interest was alright, but I was missing SB's cast and their interactions for sure. In other news, Beau will be appearing on CSI: NY coming up here I believe. So she goes from one spinoff to another (it's just one episode I think though lol), and the spinoff that was kept on the schedule while SB bit the dust. NY is a good show, though - there's only one CBS drama I really wish would have gotten the axe, ugh it's such rubbish. It even got worse ratings than our poor dearly departed. SUCH rubbish.

**Disclaimer**: not mine.

Anyway, enough about the new season. All I have to say is CM was great and at least that's back to how it should be. If I can't have my on screen Mick on Gina on desk I want my Emily/Reid!

Thanks everyone for reading and to my lovely reviewers for leaving their thoughts! Hope you guys are still enjoying the story and be sure to leave your opinion if you could - criticism is welcome of course as is what you're liking best. You guys rock for sticking with Suspect Oceans!

* * *

><p>After three grumpy, wealthy British citizens threatening to press charges, Jack Fickler was not amused with his agents' shenanigans. They had best be hiding away in the next turnout or someone was going to get hurt. One man even had <em>two<em> women with him, and the director was fairly certain the gentleman was buying their time. It wasn't worth the effort to try and question him when there was a band of armed bandits looking for two profilers without any protection. It wasn't exactly their fault this mess had snowballed a tad out of control, either – there was no way Gina could have known the diamond she'd randomly pointed to early in the D.C. morning was actually stolen from Dubai.

Now there was a shady, off-the-record Interpol unit-for-hire out looking to recover the diamond, getting outwitted by a bunch of thieves who likely only had a bounty on the diamond, not the safety of the woman wearing it. Jenna Rawson was safely out of the danger zone regarding her accident and coma, meaning the only orders of business were get the marital status chargers dropped and the diamond pawned off to Interpol and fly home.

Before anything _else_ could go wrong.

The black Maserati crept along up the dirt road, coming to a stop in the middle of the road when the end turn came into view. If the thugs had found Mick and Gina first and were still there, they wouldn't be able to escape by car. The police car containing Spak and Cooper pulled up next to them, and the Americans exited their respective vehicles.

Smith and Kerry seemed inclined to wait in their sedan, and Spak was ordered to remain seated. A black Rolls-Royce stood in the clearing, parked and solitary, though it was rocking back and forth. The windows had fogged up a bit, creating a slightly eerie effect with the tinting.

"Are they seriously…" Fickler began, trailing off as his eyes narrowed. Cooper recognized the look as one that only ever spelled certain doom for those the death glare was aimed towards. He jogged ahead, knocking on the back window.

Two startled screams sent a couple birds flying from the nearest tree, and the tinted window rolled down an inch. Not enough for Coop to see in, and he was fairly certain the contents of the sedan were nothing he wanted to view, but enough that he could talk easily enough.

"Mick, Gina, you guys alright?" he asked, though it was blatant they were _quite_ fine. So fine, in fact, they could speed down a British freeway to avoid Middle Eastern thug bandits and proceed to have sex in a stolen luxury car. But Sam Cooper believed every cloud has a silver lining – at least they were married!

"Oh, we're just uh, dandy. Couldn't be better, Coop, good to see you made it!" Mick stuttered, obviously not expecting to be found so quickly. He paused long enough for Gina to whisper that if Cooper was there, so was Fickler, and they'd been caught… red-faced. The sniper cursed and they continued their hushed conversation, Cooper leaning against the car's frame in disbelief at the pair.

"Could you be a dear and uh, go do something else, for a few minutes? You know, mate, just a couple, we're uh…"

"Yeah, yeah, stop talking. We'll be back in five," the black profiler cut him off, turning to rush away from the car. He heard the window roll back up and truly did not want to know what was happening behind tinted glass.

The disappointed, somewhat-amused but generally irritated scowl on Fickler's face indicated he didn't care to learn either.

* * *

><p>"So, anyway, then we finally find this motorway and turn off and have a chance to settle down for a moment, and we see the briefcase, the lock was <em>totally<em> destroyed. Pretty sure it was a cherry bomb or something because it was blown clear off. Anyway there's pictures of our diamond and us with the diamond and maps, so it's quite clear those goons were after this little gem, but I was _much_ too clever for them and now we're safe," Mick concluded proudly, an arm wrapped around Gina as they sat in the back seat of Spak's patrol car, Cooper clutching his head in his hands as he listened.

"I don't think they really expected us to double back, plus it was pretty stupid to leave their keys in the ignition. How are the officers?" Gina asked politely, leaning into her husband's embrace.

Spak began sobbing profusely and had to pull the car over to the side of the freeway.

"McHollister's probably not going to make it, O'Harry had minor injuries. How did you two come out unscathed?" Cooper finally replied after waiting for Spak's mournful cries to die down enough he could be heard.

"The Rolls-Royce collided with the front half of our car, and the second I felt the impact I tossed Gina to the other side of me. We were a tad shaken up but McHollister took the brunt of the crash, poor chap," the sniper explained, taking a moment to reflect back on the events. They were somewhat hazy in his memory, riddled with adrenaline rushes and peppered with 'keep Gina safe' focus. The blonde had been his priority and everything else was instinct, his war zone training coming into play.

Most of his skills were still intact, seeing as how he and his dear wife made it out perfectly fine. They had their lives, their limbs, and the diamond; not to mention, however briefly, the keys to a very nice Rolls-Royce. That was enough adventure for the London trip, though, and he was ready to get these petty charges dismissed and return to America. It would mean more stressful situations on the job and further life-threatening dangers, but at least he was getting paid to deal with that.

So was his wife. She was answering Cooper's questions, giving the sniper a moment to think. He was actually married to a woman who had just as hazardous a job as he did. Every case didn't just present the opportunity to lose a valued friend and teammate, but now his spouse as well. What a strain – they both had done risky moves to try and close a case or save a life, but nobody was ever sitting at home waiting for the phone call their partner was killed in the line of duty. Now they had each other out in the field, possibly to witness the other dying.

He slumped back into the seat – sure, he'd always fretted over Jenna, especially when he first left for Special Forces and then again when Cooper flew him to America, but now he had a wife to worry about. Then again, if she didn't feel the same deep attraction, he might not ever have to be concerned – they could split amicably and go back to their regularly scheduled lives.

Or he could never forgive her for dumping him before he had the chance to be a good husband and they'd go their separate ways, the sniper likely returning to England and rejoining Interpol and Gina staying on the team or doing whatever her family wanted her to.

Once the whole marriage scandal and diamond rubbish was said and done, The Talk would be coming. Gina wasn't going to sit around in limbo forever just having great sex; she would want to define what exactly their relationship was. He only hoped she'd agree they made a lovely couple and should stay together as such.

It meant the end of his bachelor years, one night stands and having a girl in every city. But as Beth liked to tease him, he'd lose his youthful charm sooner or later and it was better if he 'got Gina to admit her undying adoration for him' before he hit the brunette woman's age. Mick Rawson was a flirt, but not an idiot – to keep a healthy marriage meant _no_ indiscretions with other women. Or men. Gina probably wouldn't be too fond of that either.

The car jerked to a stop, jolting him from his thoughts.

"You zoned out there, everything okay?" Cooper asked as he opened the back door to let Mick out.

"Dandy, just thinking about what to get for her birthday," he joked, hoping his boss would believe the slight lie and not press the issue. The sniper didn't particularly want to go into detail about his paranoia of becoming an unwilling divorcee, especially not at the moment and not before he had a chance to speak with his darling and gauge her reaction.

Coop nodded, smiling, and led the Brit into the station, hoping to resolve the situation once and for all.

* * *

><p>Mick and Gina sat across from Spak and Fickler, feeling like fish out of water on the wrong side of an interrogation table. Cooper and the Interpol agents were busy analyzing the diamond to confirm it was indeed the stolen museum piece they wanted to recover.<p>

"Officer Spak, I'm sure, quite sure, this whole issue has been blown out of proportion. These two agents simply referred to themselves as married prematurely, despite their… obvious intentions to shortly make said status official. Please consider, would Agent Rawson really agree to buy Agent LaSalle a ring priced at $100,000 if his intent was not to marry her?" Fickler asked after a solid hour of interrogation, which got the exact same answers from the profilers as before. He was obviously getting frustrated with the officer's incompetence and simply wanted the situation to go away.

"Eh mate, I can tell you if I was that broad, I'd tell a bloke to buy me one o' them bloomin' diamonds whether I was plannin' on bloody chainin' myself to the chap or not, blimey govnah, who wouldn't?" Spak shrugged, chuckling to himself. The Brit looked very frazzled from having his fellow officers come under attack and had stopped making overly much sense long ago.

"I'm not a gold digger," Gina scowled, at the same time Mick narrowed his eyes at the officer and snapped, "I told you to show her some _respect_, 'that broad' is not respect you little weasel."

"That is _quite enough_," Fickler silenced, glaring at everyone else in the room; once they had settled down and focused on him, he continued, "Officer, I think we can agree you have no real reason to charge the agents with anything and this entire situation would reflect better on you if it was merely never mentioned again. So if that's all –"

The thundering boom of a bullet launching from the barrel of a gun drowned the director out, and Spak squealed in surprised agony before slumping to the ground. A second shot rang through the police station and Fickler flinched, turning in shock to grasp his back, returning a bloody left hand.

Mick shoved his wife to the floor, protectively covering her as a few more bullets flew above their heads. He hushed her and rolled off, reaching for Spak's gun and pulling it from the writhing man's belt. Cocking the weapon, he took aim at the door, prepared to shoot whoever broke it down. The blurred glass window had six bullet holes and cracks all the way through – it looked close to fully shattering if someone so much as bumped the wall nearby.

Fickler sank to the ground, pulling out his cell phone. The director had left his gun behind in America, not expecting to need it, and could only call for backup.

The door flew into the table, blasted out of its hooks by a small bomb of some sort. Mick couldn't be certain what device it was, but he tightened his grip on Spak's weapon, firing the moment a masked man darted through the door.

The intruder was hit squarely in the neck and plummeted to the ground like a rock, before shortly being followed by another masked man, also shot in the neck. There was a brief moment of silence before Cooper and Smith could be heard shouting, with Kerry's name thrown in the mix. The sniper's ears were still ringing above the noise of more gunshots being fired, so he couldn't make out what was being said.

"Let's go!" Someone ordered, voice trumpeting over the chaos, and Mick could see Kerry run past the doorway, dodging a couple flying bullets.

Someone was screaming the profiler's name, trying to get his attention. It sounded like Cooper, so the Brit answered, yelling back.

"Get Kerry! He's dirty!" Cooper grimaced, clutching his arm. Mick darted out of the interrogation room, turning to see Coop trying to stop his arm from bleeding. It looked like the bullet had only grazed him, though Smith didn't seem to be so lucky – a shot right to his femoral artery was spewing blood all over the floor and the man was trembling, his face a ghastly white.

The sniper rocketed away in pursuit of Kerry, who, judging by the second yell to move out, had a partner not dead on the interrogation room floor.

He was going to plant a couple lethal bullets in the men for endangering two of his team. Not to mention they had _shot_ the Director of the FBI. How much more brazen could worthless robbers get?

Gina's concerned 'be careful!' rang out behind him, and he nodded even though she wouldn't be able to see. Out of the corner of his eye he saw her exit the room and run over to Cooper, helping the man to tear his shirt to bind the wound. Fickler was bellowing to the black profiler for his status, but Mick drowned their voices out.

A car's lights flared to life and he sprinted out the door, firing three rounds and striking all of its visible tires. The engine roared but spluttered, unable to gain any traction with three rapidly-deflating wheels. He kept running to prevent being a sitting duck while Kerry pulled a gun out. The Rolls-Royce's window rolled down and Mick fired, eliciting a pained cry. Kerry slumped, his head rolling to the side and partially out the window.

The driver seemed torn, and his hesitation made Mick nervous. He could have been preparing a bomb or loading an automatic, perhaps he even intended to detonate something on his person – suicide to avoid being captured or revealing his identity.

Mick was looping around to the driver's side, gun trained right on the tinted window, when the door flew open, and he fired.

The gun cracked, but no bullet came out.

The sniper paled as he realized he had used every round in Spak's gun while a Middle Eastern man, face covered by the folds of a turban, raised what appeared to be a highly illegal semiautomatic. With Mick in his sights, he smirked before pulling the trigger.

A shot cracked through the tense air, and then there was silence.

* * *

><p>Yipes! Is Mick going to make it out of this alright? You'll just have to wait for the next update to find out. Thanks for reading and be sure to review if you could!<p> 


	19. In Which We Remeet Kerry and Smith

Hello readers, Chapter 19 is here! I was gone over the weekend and have been working since I got home but I admit, though the creativity and ideas were there, my productivity level and energy were just really lacking. BUT I have the conclusion to that horrid cliffhanger I left you with, so now you all can see just what happens to our dear profiler. I know that's what you're all here for and none of you care what I have to say until after you've read what goes down so...

**Disclaimer**: I agree with my great reviewers, the show should've been entrusted to me (and my fellow ff writers), our plotlines would be too strongth to get canceled, but alas, the stars did not align and only the DVD set is mine.

* * *

><p>As Mick Rawson stared down the barrel of a loaded semiautomatic rifle, only two things came to mind. The first was that he almost assuredly would not have the chance to apologize to his dear wife for leaving her a widow not even a week into their marriage. Even though there was nothing she could have done to avoid her husband getting laced up by a diamond-stealing terrorist when his borrowed Scotland Yard gun ran out of bullets, the title of 'widow' would forever shame her in the blonde's family and social circle.<p>

The second was that if he was _really_ unlucky, the driver would dart into the police station to grab a pair of keys to steal a police car, as his Rolls-Royce was down three tires, see Gina crouching over Cooper, and shoot her as well. Then he'd kill Cooper and Fickler and ensure Smith was finished off. Perhaps Kerry had even instructed him to guarantee there would be no survivors if the mission kept going south.

It was obviously unexpected the sniper would start shooting back. Kerry probably wasn't bothered they were down two operatives, as it meant more of the spoils for the double agent and driver, but now Kerry was dead as well. That left the getaway man, who would assuredly not have been trained for combat like Kerry and the other men were. He would be panicking and just looking to get away. If the diamond had still been on Kerry, the driver might even forget to grab it off his person while fleeing.

Hopefully he made a run for it, after shooting the Brit down, and left the FBI agents alone. Spak was a nonissue – the man would either be fine thanks to his resilient, cockroach-like nature, or have bled out before now. Ambulances and backup were racing to reach the station, but if the driver unloaded multiple bullets on Mick, he'd be dead long before they could arrive.

Poor Jenna would be left so alone in the world.

The driver's finger tightened around the trigger, pulling it. Mick closed his eyes, waiting for the end. There was no point in watching himself get shot to death by someone who obviously had no value for other humans' lives, or law enforcement. His own gun wasn't firing; no bullets meant no chance, and even a bulletproof vest likely wouldn't protect him from a semiautomatic's repeated firing at close range.

The explosion of gunpowder crackled through the air, and Mick waited for the first bullet to pierce his skin. The tension was almost unbearable as he braced himself for the hit, silently sending telepathic messages to Gina to get out of sight and that he was sorry for leaving her.

One second passed by. Then two, three, and finally four. The bullet never came.

Had the man missed? Unless he was horribly nervous, or crippled by a physical ailment that sent his hands shaking, there was simply no way he couldn't have hit the sniper at such a close range. Even if it was a limb, the Brit absolutely _had_ to be oozing blood out of some wound. Perhaps it had been a headshot, and this was the afterlife. He could sense someone, living, off to the side thanks to his sniper prowl instincts.

Then he realized there had only been one shot, and it most definitely had not come from the man mere feet in front of him.

Mick opened his eyes, blinking as the gunman's head bounced against the bumper of the car before crumbling on top of his fallen body. A single shot to the head was spurting red liquid all over his clothes and the sidewalk. The bullet quite clearly didn't come from his gun, so who…

Gina Rawson stood in the doorway to the police station, gun drawn and smoking. Her unwavering gaze still lingered on the spot where the driver was when standing, and she held her position firmly, though Mick could see her beginning to tremble. Finally the shaking got so bad she almost dropped the gun, and her lip was quivering beneath glossy eyes. The realization she had killed the driver finally processed in his head. The profiler was going to be fine, unless there were more diamond-hungry goons lurking around.

He rushed to the blonde and grabbed her hands, lowering them before pulling her into his arms. She snuggled into his embrace, fighting valiantly to not cry, because tough FBI LaSalles don't cry.

"He almost shot you," she eventually whispered, sounding like a mixture of distraught and annoyed.

"Spak's gun ran out of ammo. Bloody good timing you have, love," Mick smiled, trying to be lighthearted to mask his concern at how close he came to dying. The driver's gun had been aimed right at him, the trigger being pulled, when the blonde had shot him down.

"Cooper told me to take Smith's gun when he heard shots. I grabbed an Uzi off the robbers, for you, I don't know how to fire machine guns," she explained, handing over the sleek, black metal object that had been slung around her neck.

"The Uzi is a submachine gun, dear, but I know how to operate it all the same. We should secure the area…" he suggested, but Gina made no motion to exit his hold.

Instead she tilted her head up to make eye contact, clasping his face with her shaky hands, "You were _this_ close to dying. Then I'd be alone, and your sister, oh Mick, why do you always have to be the daredevil action hero? One of these days I won't be trailing you to bail you out and you'll wind up with a bullet through your heart and I'll have to _bury_ you and you'll be so young..."

"Shush, love, you'll always be there to protect me. How was I to know Spak's gun would be so short on bullets, eh? Trust me, darling, I have no intentions of letting you grow old alone. That'd simply be so bloody rude of me. It wasn't like I asked Kerry to suddenly turn dirty and try shooting the FBI's _director_. That's pretty bloomin' brazen, we need to recover the diamond and get back inside to wait for backup, in case a second wave of thieves is approaching."

"Tell me you love me too first, please," the blonde pleaded, her face very close to his as she whispered the request.

"I love you more than you think, sweetheart, and I _never_ want to hurt you. Now, let's get your ring and secure the building while help arrives," he soothed, planting a tender kiss on her lips. She deepened the kiss before realizing he was right and they needed to ensure more robbers weren't on their way. They pulled apart and quickly walked over to Kerry.

Mick bent down to sort through his pockets, Gina keeping a watchful eye on the streets and all possible avenues of approach. The Brit tore at the fabric as he felt for any abnormally large hard chunks, assuming Kerry would still be in possession of the diamond. What likely happened was the two goons broke in, startling Smith and Cooper which allowed Kerry to slip the ring into a pocket and pull his gun on his partner and their team leader.

Interpol would be getting some _serious_ flack for allowing a double agent into their ranks, unless Smith and Kerry weren't actual agents with Interpol, or a smuggling subunit of the agency. Smith could have been shot to reduce the number of people profiting from the ring's sale if they were fake the whole while, or a genuine Interpol agent that obviously needed to be removed from the picture to allow Kerry and his thief men to escape.

"Found it," Mick exclaimed in triumph, pulling the ring out and shining it with his sleeve. The diamond gleamed like it always had, apparently no worse for its experience. The gem wouldn't care a bit if people died while trying to dictate its owner, as long as it could twinkle in the light. Gina slipped the ring back onto her finger, likely the safest place for the moment, before helping to pull him up.

They walked away from the Rolls-Royce and its dead occupants, spreading out several yards from each other to check both sides of the station and the roadway. Turning to nod to each other that all visible angles were clear of goons, the pair retreated inside the station and rushed to lock all side doors before returning to Cooper and Smith.

"Agents!" Fickler's irritated voice rang out, and they glanced inside the interrogation room to see him propped against the table, attempting to apply as much pressure as possible to the bleeding wound on his back.

"Sir, help should be here in moments. All four assailants are dead and we have the ring. Pretty sure  
>Smith is dead and Spak looks pretty bad. Coop has a shot to the arm but he's stopped most of the bleeding. You've got a nice little pool here but it doesn't look fatal," Mick analyzed, glancing at the torn fabric of Fickler's shirt and the cluster of red liquid the man sat in.<p>

"Understood. Keep your eyes out. Do you recognize any of the men as the two from earlier?" the director asked, steeling himself against the pain despite his strained winces as he applied pressure to the wound.

"It's hard to say, the three who crashed into us had ski masks, but it wouldn't surprise me if the driver and one of the goons were the same as before," Gina shrugged, glancing at the body in the doorway to the room. It shifted and she jumped before Cooper staggered into the room, clutching at his injured arm.

"Sirens are right outside, help has arrived. Someone really went to all this trouble, for a ring? Are we _sure_ the diamond is the true motivation here? It could have been a decoy target," the black man tossed out, sagging against the wall as he tried to consider everything.

"They didn't shoot to kill you or Fickler, and I'm pretty sure nobody could hate a bloody imbecilic bloke like Spak enough to risk trying to kill him with four FBI agents in the room. Smith's wound doesn't look intentionally fatal or motivated by revenge or passion. And they only shot at me and Gina trying to sweep the room with bullets, neither of us took a bullet. Though I might've, if not for my darling wife's excellent marksmanship. I must be rubbing off on her already," Mick smiled, glancing over at the blonde who grinned back and leaned against him, snuggling her head into the crook of his neck.

"One thing's certain – you're getting rid of that diamond for a less-deadly one once we get trustworthy Interpol agents on the scene. They wanted it enough to shoot me, the Director of the FBI. I direct the FBI and they shot me, me, the director…" Fickler began rambling, his head drooping down. Gina tried to prop it up but his eyes rolled about aimlessly; the man was close to losing consciousness or at least entering into shock.

"Yes sir," the profilers nodded, as several medics rushed into the room.

* * *

><p>"I'm Agent Kerry, and this is Agent Smith," a tall but lanky dark-skinned Interpol agent, clad in a solid black suit, introduced, sitting down in front of Mick and Gina.<p>

"Where have we heard this before?" the Brit joked to his wife, who giggled.

"Agents, this is no laughing matter, regardless of the consistent naming habits of identity-sensitive Interpol agents. The prior Agent Smith you knew is dead at the hands of the former Agent Kerry, who Agent Rawson shot. The male one," stammered Smith, a portly white man who had gone bald decades before.

He was slightly confused as to how to formally refer to Gina, now that she was married. Both profilers held the same rank of SSA and with the same last name, their only defining difference was either their first names or the 'Mr./Mrs.' titles. Smith wasn't particularly certain if he said just 'Agent Rawson' the profilers, who up until very recently had gone by different last names, would know he meant Mick.

The sniper rolled his eyes and wondered how this guy was a credible super-special-Interpol-division agent.

"My husband shot a traitor who was part of an organization that put bullets in one Scotland Yard officer, landed two more in the hospital, one Interpol agent, and two high-ranked FBI officials. If Kerry wasn't with the goons, he wouldn't have tried to shoot _Agent Rawson_," Gina explained, emphasizing the last words to mock Smith, who didn't seem to notice the jibe.

"None of which would have happened if you hadn't forced _your husband_ into purchasing an undervalued diamond…" Kerry began, before an irritated Mick cut him off.

"Excuse me, mate, do you think any store is going to advertise a diamond as stolen goods from a museum? From the other Smith and Kerry's records it sounds like the diamond was mistakenly swapped and the store didn't even know it wasn't their stone. Don't bloody blame me because you couldn't screen for clean agents properly."

"Are you making accusations here, Agent Rawson?" Smith butted in, snarling.

"Are you making excuses for your screening process' shortcomings by trying to blame me for buying my darling wife the ring of her dreams?" the sniper shot back, folding his arms to signify he was very close to done with these two men.

The Interpol agents were silent. They didn't deal with profilers much, it seemed, or agents who held a rank equal or higher to theirs in other law enforcement agencies. FBI profilers who worked outside the bureaucracy and had defended the director after he was shot weren't to be meddled with, especially when their also-shot team leader had the director on speed dial for work and personal reasons. Smith and Kerry turned to discuss the situation between them, glancing warily at the increasingly-bored couple.

"We will make an exchange – you give us the ring, complete with the diamond, we provide you with one of equal value, and this entire incident is dropped as all suspects are dead," Kerry finally tossed out, frowning. He didn't seem too happy with just letting everything slide, but the profilers had a 'do not tamper' label, especially since the husband was former Special Forces with heavy Interpol connections.

"The ring is valued a couple hundred thousand above what we paid, so taking that figure as its value, you have a deal," Gina quickly agreed, smirking as the Interpol men grimaced.

They apparently hadn't considered that the couple read all the files, including the diamond's actual worth, or that Gina would think to clarify the statement.

"There went our unit's raises," Smith sighed.

* * *

><p>Yeah yeah I'm a sissy little sap and I can never make bad things happen. But hey, at least Mick is fine, right? And I updated (unlike the show itself in a similar situation...)! I go back to college tomorrow, but I hope my writing-based schedule won't be TOO overloaded and I'll have plenty of time to update regularly. I totally understand the rest of you guys having school too - just review on the weekends when you have time!<p>

Glad everyone is still liking the fic, especially now that it picked up. I know it started a bit slow with not a whole lot going on except tomfoolery and the usual shenanigans but now we've got some ACTION! My next casefic will be more like these last few chapters, intensive on the action, etc. Like a case. lol

Thanks to my great readers and reviewers, you bros rock. If you could, click that button below to review!


	20. In Which Penelope Tells All

Hi ho everyone! Ugh allow me to apologize for the wait - uni started back up and you guys know what THAT means. :C The first week is always a bit stressful getting into the swing of things and I was flipflopping on where to take this chapter BUT the good news is it's finally decided!

**Disclaimer**: still haven't been offered the rights to the show.. gosh 8/

Thanks to all my dear PATIENT readers and reviewers for sticking with the story, Chapter 20, big stuff! Enjoy (:

* * *

><p>Penelope Garcia, clad in a fabulously clashing neon pink and yellow dress, strolled through the bullpen, an enormous smile on her face. She sashayed past the four profilers on her favorite team, almost floating, on her way to the cavern illuminated by a dozen or so computer screens she called her lair.<p>

The thinner blonde, for by this point Garcia had returned to her naturally pale hair color, looked up and suspiciously narrowed her eyes, watching the tech trot along. JJ was not a fool and she had known Penelope for years – either Kevin had proposed, Morgan had shown her a _really_ good but highly scandalous time, or some very pleasant event had occurred that obviously needed to be detailed at once.

"Hey Garcia, where are you going grinning like the Cheshire cat?" JJ called out, stopping the hacker in her tracks. She turned around, a clever smirk on her face.

"Oh, just to my dungeon, sweetcakes," the tech replied evasively, her smile widening ever so slightly.

"Babydoll, you aren't getting away _that_ easily. You're gonna tell us what's got you glowing like the sun," Morgan quickly retorted, standing from his desk and darting in front of Penelope, blocking her from walking onwards.

Reid and Emily shoved their folders to the side, all thoughts of cases and tedious paperwork forgotten. They remained mute, but focused on Garcia, silently prompting her to spill the beans.

The tech backed up, sitting down in Morgan's chair as the black man leaned against his desk, waiting for his best friend to start.

"If my darlings _insist_, I may just have to explain the wondrous incident that spring boarded me to new heights, _fund_amentally speaking," she cryptically began, glancing about at the eager faces of her beloved profilers.

Their wide eyes and set expressions told her continuing would be in her best interests. They all _did_ carry guns, and knew how to use them.

Penelope delved back into her story, "Well, you know my other team? Sam Cooper's? He is such a funky little monkey, I love him! Not as much as _you_, my hunk of chocolate perfection, of course, but he's a great guy. Anyway, you all met their fifth team member, right?"

The pause was intended for someone to mention Beth, who would have been present at a fair few FBI banquets and meetings and the like. JJ shook her head, as she had been missing during the time, and Emily seemed pressed to recall much about her, but Reid nodded eagerly.

"Yeah, Beth Griffith, short and high strung, opinionated and pushy about it but generally correct. She never seemed very happy to be at any FBI-required events, but I remember her, and the rest of the team," he chimed up.

Emily exhaled, his description apparently triggering full memory of the other brunette. JJ still didn't recognize her, but pushed Garcia to continue with the story regardless.

"She, Prophet that loveable rapist-slayer, and I made a little bet," Penelope paused, making sure everyone recalled the ex-con. He never made much of a scene at FBI events like the _other_ Caucasian male on the Red Cell team tended to do.

"What'd you bet about, how long before Rawson gets arrested for being an idiot?" Emily rolled her eyes, eliciting a small chuckle from the other profilers, who all felt he thought much too highly of himself for his own good.

"Close, my dove, but no cigar. Though I could buy you one with the bank I shammed off those two."

"Get on with the story, princess fierce," Morgan huffed, tiring of the stalling. He was a to-the-point man and the evasiveness was putting him on edge.

"I don't recall if you heard, but, Mick's sister was hit by a drunk driver, so he flew over the England, but Sam made him take Gina along," the hacker paused again, and Reid affirmed he remembered hearing about the accident, though nobody else seemed to have learned much about it.

"Prophet, Beth and I all agreed that they would come back… _attached_," she smirked, intentionally vague, "But they backed out when the pool was up to a thousand each. They're not back yet, however I personally extradited a document or two that made me the winner of two hundred Benjamins."

"What was the bet about?" JJ asked, appeasing Garcia's desire to string the profilers along.

"We thought they'd return married –"

She was interrupted by Emily's loud cough and Morgan spewing Pepsi all over Reid, who cried out in anguish at the unwanted spraying.

"Morgan!" "Derek!" "Man I am so sorry!" all came at the same time, and Rossi could be seen leaning out the door of his office in curiosity at the proceedings. He had been listening the whole time, glad for Garcia's trumpeting vocal chords which made it quite easy to overhear, but something good had just gone down and he simply had to watch.

Emily had chucked a folder at Morgan while JJ helped Reid pull off the staining cardigan he was wearing, the genius scowling pitifully the whole time. Tossing his hands up in the air, Morgan darted off the gather paper towels, all the while Garcia giggled to herself, throwing Reid sympathetic glances. Rossi shook his head, but remained at the doorway to his office, eager for the next bit of Penelope's tale.

Once Reid had finally accepted the situation and was sufficiently cleaned up, he nodded to allow the tech to continue.

"So, a couple days ago, they got married, but then some Scotland Yard and Interpol agents were after them so I rushed the certificate's approval and Sam and _Fickler himself_ flew over to deal with things. I guess the mess has settled down now, though, and Gina somehow conned the agents into replacing her ring which turned out to have a stolen diamond with one worth more than they bought, so we agreed, they're sticking together," Garcia concluded, somewhat rushed as she was eager to get her story out.

There was silence from the profilers. Rossi whistled from the doorway, finally breaking the tense stillness and triggering a flood of questions.

"That guy got married?" Morgan mumbled first, clearly quite surprised a fellow ladies' man would dare to settle down.

"Yep, and he won me two thousand dollars," Penelope grinned, cheerfully rubbing her hands together in anticipation of receiving her funds from the losing profilers.

"Told you he was the marrying kind, Emily," JJ smirked, tossing a haughty look the brunette's way, who flipped the blonde off.

"I can't believe he actually intends to stay with her, but come on, he married a younger, thinner, prettier blonde. She's his type, I'm not," Prentiss shrugged, though she was obviously blown away by the revelation.

"_I_ am shocked Gina would be stupid enough to think he won't cheat on her," Derek retorted, more concerned with the female member of the marriage.

"Actually, though I don't believe IQ is an accurate way to portray intelligence, her IQ is tested to be quite a bit above all of yours. I read their files while we were flying over on the case – she's probably the smartest member of their team regarding base knowledge, though she lacks the experience her older teammates have," Reid piped up, not overly invested in anyone else's personal business either way but feeling the need to contribute something.

"Even more reason to think he forced her into marrying him, then agreeing to stay married," Emily rolled her eyes as Morgan nodded in agreement.

"Wrong again, the assumption he will inevitably be unfaithful is problematic. If he doesn't fit the traditional LDSK profile in that he lacks the emotional void to kill victims mercilessly, he likely will follow the nonterminal bachelor lifestyle of eventually settling down with one mate, most probably brought on by a desire to conform to the nuclear family unit in that he will want one mother for his offspring, what he sees as the best way to raise them. However, Gina doesn't exactly fit the proper mother stereotype – she has a poor relationship with her own father and distances herself from family constructs, which makes his choice interesting. Likely he has a strong romantic attraction to her brought on by some past events that make him overly protective of younger, 'fragile' female figures," rambled Reid, who didn't notice he had lost Morgan's attention a sentence in, though Emily and JJ listened intently, despite the length of his analysis.

"From what I know, he lied about them being married to sit next to her on the plane ride over, then things spiraled out of control and Scotland Yard got testy about it, so Fickler and Coop flew over to settle things. They got married to prove it was their intent all along so the charges are voided," Penelope explained, leaving out the part where she knew their undying devotion to each other would have resulted in a wedding sooner or later.

"She went along with this?" Morgan's eyes bulged, wondering how exactly someone supposedly so smart could be manipulated into such ridiculous circumstances.

"I think she's been attracted to him for a long time. He could have called me but she probably never let him," Emily shrugged, reflecting back on the events.

"She's got a killer hold on him – the ring she made him buy her to fake being married was a hundred thousand dollars," Garcia excitedly revealed, remembering how stunning it had looked when Mick posted a picture of it on Facebook.

The profilers once again were shocked into silence. Morgan made a spitting motion, but fortunately for the younger man, he had long ago finished the brown soda.

Reid was the one to break the mystified stupor, "Strong romantic attraction, as I said."

"How are Prophet and, uh, Beth? Taking losing?" JJ asked, stumbling over the newest profiler's name as she wasn't familiar with her.

"Beth threatened to add me to her trail of bodies, it's a little inside joke she's a closet serial killer herself, and Prophet was disappointed he backed out so cheap for how inevitable it was," Penelope replied, thinking about how tragically the profilers had reacted upon hearing the news.

"I'm still amazed they actually intend to make this work," Derek commented, though it was more thinking aloud than contributing to their conversation, and from his doorway position, Rossi couldn't help but think the other man should be taking notes on Mick's ability to tie down a woman despite his reputation. There was a simple phrase for the sort of relationship Gina had to the Brit, and accepting said phrase was key to making the marriage work, and apparently the sniper had quite readily taken to it. This phrase was also the reason why Rossi's marriages had never worked out so well, and why Hotch's had dissolved, because the claim applied more to the head of the team and his job than the man and his wife.

Speaking of the team leader, who presumably had not heard the conversation, he soon emerged from his office, looking like he was oblivious to his team gossiping as he walked past, but his voice was unmistakably directed at them.

"She's got him by the balls."

Rossi smiled.

* * *

><p>Several thousand miles away, and a bit in the past, Mick Rawson and his wife strolled across a street in upscale London, aiming their sights at a fashionably extravagant jewelry store. Mick had the Interpol debit card, with the engagement ring's stated value loaded onto it, in his wallet, and that much money was burning a hole in his poor pocket. Unfortunately, it could only be spent on a replacement ring for the reclaimed diamond, so he couldn't split the proceeds towards a new ring and, say, a new Ferrari.<p>

Gina presently had only one ring on her left hand, the 'wedding ring' which wasn't really anything special as much as what she'd had in her house that matched what he had before they left. His right hand clasped hers and kept fiddling with the lone ring. It felt wrong to him, despite the newness of having a ring on her hand (and holding it like couples tend to do) at all.

Fortunately they had the one band signifying she was taken, as several men on the street blatantly mentally undressed her as they walked by. The sniper shot a nasty glare at each one, and most turned away sheepishly, recognizing they had no chance. It still shamed him that so many of his fellow Brits had so little respect for women, though to his credit he was from the great land of Wales and most of these ingrates heralded from England or Scotland, clearly inferior regions to his own place of birth. The classy gene apparently vanished from English and Scottish bloodlines, but rang strong in Welsh.

This was surprisingly nice. As a man who felt extended relationships were simply a means to drain good men of their hard-earned money by spoiling fickle women with gifts to placate their demands and insecurities, he had never been fond of strolling down high-end shopping lanes, alone or with a woman, especially one who was looking to spend over a hundred thousand of any currency.

But perhaps he was missing out – Gina was pleasant company. She didn't laugh at everything he said like vacant broads would but she did recognize his moments of genuine humor instead of giving the 'Mick you're an idiot' face nonstop. The blonde had some semblance of experience with upscale shopping and, being the 'pretty sister,' felt quite comfortable standing up to the prying eyes of nosy British women who were scoping their main competition for a man's affections.

They stopped outside the store, preparing to go ring shopping together this time. Gina turned to smile softly at him, a small but comforting gesture. Jewelry hunting was not in Mick's vast realm of expertise and he certainly did not excel at it.

It was like getting married all over again as she asked if he was ready; nodding, he led the blonde inside.

* * *

><p>So we get a special guest appearance by the cast of CM (AS IT SHOULD BE SCREW SEASON 6 AND SEAVER DIE IN A FIRE KTHX)! And they discuss our favorite couple, who are going ring shopping together. The actual shopping will appear next chapter, or this one might never get posted LOL. I declined to put any CM ships in so all readers can enjoy (I personally am a huge supporter of ReidEmily which is the only Emily ship that makes any semblance of sense to me, sorry to those who like her with Hotch/Morgan/other but I don't find any of them to really fit in with the canon of the show, not to say R/E hints are just overflowing but SPOILERSFORPROOF Reid did cry for 10 weeks straight over her and SPOILERSFORTHATS5EPISODE he solved the star puzzle!). Anyway enough about my shipping tastes for the mothership show WHICH I AM SO GLAD HAS THE CAST BACK TOGETHER OMG now it's like my second fav show again (FRINGE FOREVER).

Be sure to leave a review if you could, especially if you have anything else you want to see come up. I have the endgame plotted out but there's always room for more adventure ;) and of course, my ideas for oneshots/the casefic are ready to deploy but I'm gonna finish this before I start anything else or I may never finish either LOL. Hope school is going well for all my readers who are back in it and though a lot of people seem to have dropped off I totes understand you guys are busy with your lives - I'm always here whether I update or not though LOL.

Also, dear CM writers, please put in a hint about what happened to Beth? Though from commentary remarks AND THERE WAS THE SCENE WHERE THEY TOOK EMILY'S PICTURE OFF THE WALL - BETH'S PICTURE WAS NOT SHOWN! I am almost positive she was gonna survive, still, makes you wonder what the consequences were if Cooper shot the accomplice. My preferred ending is dodo bird "oops we showed up at the wrong house then left like 5 doors unopened" agents do work COUGHCOUGH while Prophet goes all ragemaster and finds the bro holding Beth and busts a cap on his brain stem.

Errr yeah so thanks for reading you're all wonderful, click the button below to give me your thoughts!


	21. In Which a Ring is Found

Hi hi readers! Oi college has been a real drag with regards to my writing time BUT I am back with another chapter! Sorry to keep everyone waiting but the next one will be out sooner, namely because of the cliffy! Can't keep you all waiting too long after that.

**Disclaimer**: still only own the DVDs.

To SiSi: I THINK 12 is on YT, 13 might be as well. I own the DVD so I really have no idea where they are online but try looking again? Might be uploaded by now.

I'll get to the other reviews after, I'm sure you want the story first!

* * *

><p>The moment Mick Rawson stepped into Luthor's Topline Jewels, he realized there was an entire <em>world<em> of serious-girlfriend-related experiences he'd been missing. From the dimmed upper lights to the bright, refined bulbs reflecting on the jewelry cases, sparklingly clear to best display the valuables within, this was something else to a serial dater.

It was magical. His eyes shone, glazed over by the glimmering diamonds' reflections and the classily-done lighting. One of his wealthy friends had recommended the store as simply the _best_ jeweler in all of London – if you had the money to front, that is. And the Interpol credit card certainly provided said funds. The staff were primly dressed, not a hair out of place, but their smiles were genuine. The sniper was amazed such people could be found, but based off the prices he could see easily of the bracelets close to the door, they were well-compensated for being truthfully cheerful to even the most difficult customers.

Extravagant but professional murals, reminiscent of lavish medieval castles and the nation's heritage, decorated the walls, surrounded by elaborate paneling on the top and bottom. The muted colors didn't take away from the classiness of the room, and Mick wondered if places like this even existed in America.

Perhaps he'd simply never looked for them. Such high-end establishments were not for casual one night stands – way too much money. But now he had a darling wife who came from the sort of family where these wonderlands of fabulous were commonplace locales to frequent. Whether for dates or to buy something, as a couple, this would become his new stomping ground.

He was too star-struck to glance at Gina; the Brit's eyes fixated on the cases of diamond rings. It was tempting to buy one for himself but that might give the wrong impression. Although there were rings with diamonds intended for men…

Then someone blocked his view of the closest ring display and he scowled, moving forward to shove them out of the way before realizing it was his very own bride. His hands were already in motion so he swiftly changed their target and grasped her upper arms, hoping it looked a bit more like a tender embrace than a clawed assault. She looked behind her, smiling.

"Hello, hello, my name is Rob and welcome to Luthor's! I will be available to help you with everything you need. What are your names and what are you looking for today?" a well-dressed gentleman recited. His tone was sincere and upbeat – obviously a professional salesman of high-end establishments.

Mick took the lead in replying, as he figured was the custom in upper crust jewelers, "Mick Rawson, this is my wife, Gina. We're here for an engagement ring, to buy one."

Rob's expression didn't waver; at least, to anyone who wasn't a trained profiler, it didn't. The agents could see his strong confusion at a married couple looking for a ring, though he masked it well. Practiced in the art of facial neutrality, the salesman maintained a positive look, clearly the best way to keep a sale.

"Our old one was taken by Interpol. It was swapped… with a stolen one. We're here to replace it – you understand how these things go," Gina offhandedly remarked, apparently quite a bit more in her element here than her man. She skimmed the case closest to them, disinterested. The diamonds were small and the metal was silver, nothing on par with the original ring.

She walked forward, quite pleased that the usually-overconfident sniper silently followed her. It was oddly satisfying to have him so docile and uneasy. Perhaps she was picking up some of the unsub's kinks, like seeing a cocky, grown man so out of his element and reduced to trailing a dainty girl.

Or maybe Mick Rawson just plain needed to be knocked off his throne every so often.

The diamonds got progressively larger. Mick pointed to the gold rings, picking out his favorites. The blonde was surprised how opinionated he seemed to be about the ring – she wasn't aware most men could criticize engagement presents in such detail. But if a single tiny diamond looked out of place, he rejected the whole ring without a second thought.

Several of the rings weren't clear enough for him. Most didn't sparkle enough. He wasn't a fan of any slightly off-color diamonds. His nagging seemed to be grating on Rob, whose cheerful demeanor looked to be weakening by the minute.

"Mick, baby, I thought we were looking for _my_ ring," she pointed out quietly, watching as his face reddened slightly.

"Of course we are love, I just don't want to settle for something that's not good enough…" the sniper countered, which was surely a mistake. Rob gasped in offended horror before he could stop himself.

"Sir, I assure you, we have _never_ seen a dissatisfied customer. There will be a ring _good enough_ for you, see here, this selection of prime diamonds – surely one of them must be _good enough for you_!" Rob spluttered, his voice growing higher with each word. Gina could see where this was headed and quickly intervened.

"I like this one," she stated bluntly, aiming her finger once again at a random ring. All three turned to look at the lone ring sitting on a plush cushion, by itself to stand out.

Mick, still with his hands on her arms, was close enough that Gina could feel his erection rapidly harden against her back. She blinked in shock, surprised at his unwaveringly locked stare at the ring. It was almost exactly like the first ring, only slightly bigger, and the gold was more vibrant.

He'd never even looked at her that way. She frowned, bottom lip pouting out to say she wasn't happy. The sniper seemed to not notice her, still entranced by the flawless diamond. He wasn't even moving to pull his credit card out. The only thing that snapped him out of his trance was a high-pitched, airy woman's voice calling his name.

His head whirled around in clear recognition of the individual. Gina was slower to look, though she had a feeling she wouldn't be happy with whoever it was.

Two women clad in sequined, _very_ low-cut dresses waved to the sniper, beckoning him to come over as they giggled. The American girl scowled as 'her' husband trotted right over to them, forgetting his beloved ring and less-beloved wife. If these British tramps thought they were going to steal her man right in front of her nose they had another thing coming. Rob could see the ensuing cat fight and strategically stepped back from the situation, which conveniently brought him closer to the button to summon security as well.

"Marjory," name number one on Gina's hatelist, "Nina," scratch that, _she_ was name one, Marjory could be number two, "bloody good to see you two dolls!" Mick exclaimed, stopping awfully close to the girls. The blonde's hair bristled; if he didn't move away when they swayed closer, things were going to get ugly.

"Oh isn't it? We heard you'd be in the area and just _had_ to see you again. We've got this smashing party tonight and a hotel room…" Nina carried on, chattering more about their vain plans for the evening.

Gina saw red. A hotel room indicated one thing – they were trying to accost her own lawfully-wedded husband into a threesome _right in front of her_. In a high-class jewelry store; the profilers were buying an engagement ring for crying out loud. Mick was casually shrugging off their request, disinterested in any sort of sex acts with either woman, but his sweetie didn't hear any of it.

Her fingers clenched around his wrist in a painfully tight grip. His entire arm jolted uncomfortably at the circulation-stopping grasp. But that was nothing compared to the brutal death glare Gina aimed at her rivals. It clearly stated 'if I see you around him again you will wind up sliced to pieces in a gutter'. A bit gruesome for someone who upholds the law to be conveying but it needed to be said.

She tugged as hard as her slender figure would allow, nearly toppling the Brit, who stumbled to keep up with her as she lead him back to the ring.

"I want _that one_," Gina huffed, pointing once again at the flawlessly darling ring. Rob tentatively emerged from his hiding spot, hopeful he could quickly finalize the sale and get everyone out of the store before blood was shed.

Fortunately for everyone involved, Mick could tell he was in trouble and didn't argue. He turned to Rob, "We'll take that ring, mate. Get it fitted and such."

The salesman nodded quickly, hurrying to test Gina's ring finger for sizes as Mick pulled the credit card out. He briefly glanced at the door to see the girls storming out, but a slight snarl from _his_ girl kept his head facing forward. It was quite possibly he'd reacted a bit too casually charming to their advances, especially considering his reputation.

Though he hadn't known the blonde was so quick to assert her dominance. She'd done it almost clinically, scaring her rivals off more than any civilized means of displaying one's claim. Maybe she felt like she had to or he'd take some other woman up on their offer of a good time, if she let any get close.

Hopefully she wasn't too upset – he was still sporting one mean boner from seeing the ring and imagining it on his lovely partner's hand. It would look perfect on her dainty finger, just like everything else about it.

The ring turned out to be exactly the right size for Gina, but she didn't even crack a smile when the sniper cheerfully pointed it out.

* * *

><p>"Idiot," Beth Griffith muttered for the hundredth time that day. She exhaled sharply afterwards, then cursed as she broke her pencil yet again by pressing too hard.<p>

"Man, you should be _happy_ for their happiness, not sitting around fuming," Prophet sighed, somewhat bemused with her rage, "Besides, you look like a brooding serial killer, plotting out your elaborate torture fantasy as you get revenge on people you incorrectly believe have wronged you."

He tossed a baseball in the air, a stupid grin on his face as he looked at his coworker hunched over. Her desk was completely organized, as she'd sorted through her papers five times that day to try and get her mind off losing a thousand dollars.

'Elaborate torture fantasy'. Now that had potential, she reasoned. But she wasn't very patient and Mick, Gina, Cooper and Fickler were still a couple days out from returning. That left Penelope, who was safely huddled up in an FBI building, and Prophet, who was sitting across from her in an otherwise-deserted building.

What could she do with him? Rip all his baseball caps to pieces, for one. Those things looked _so stupid_ and unprofessional – nothing like her suits. Then she could reenact some of his favorite prison memories. Oh, there were plenty of ways to get under Prophet's skin and into his fake-Zen mind.

She turned to face him, face devoid of all emotion. Her lips quirked up in an almost unnoticeable smile. But Prophet, being a profiler, saw the creepily muted grin. He scooted his chair back, only to realize Beth was closer to the door than him. He'd never make it.

The brunette kept looking, her expression never changing.

"Beth, man, what's going through your mind right now?" he asked, though it was a terrible question to pose. She wouldn't reply truthfully and he wasn't quite sure he did indeed want to know. But something, _anything_ to break the awful silence suffocating him made up for sounding dumb with a bad query.

She stood up and predatorily inched closer.

"Beth?"

Another step.

"Man come on."

Closer still.

"Man Beth this isn't funny. You know someone's about to walk in."

But it was the weekend and nobody would save him as she continued to advance.

"Idiots," he conceded, as his chair backed against the wall.

* * *

><p>Somewhere unbeknownst to anyone, Prophet's one true love felt a pang of unexplainable loss wretch through her heart.<p>

* * *

><p>Gina folded another shirt and stuffed it back into her suitcase. She refused to turn around and look at the Brit, sitting shamefully alone on his bed. Though he wasn't the only thing she ignored – the blonde didn't give her ring so much as a glance while she packed.<p>

Which he thought was pretty bizarre, considering he hated to take his eyes off it. Didn't girls love their engagement rings? She hadn't even let him take a picture to post on Facebook. After ignoring him the whole way home, she stormed into the room where her clothes were and began sorting them out, folding each so it fit into the suitcase properly. The same room where all of Mick's things were, thus requiring him to sit awkwardly behind her, being ignored, as his sister and Fickler watched boring as dirt polo.

His iPhone buzzed once again. It was probably yet another old 'friend' asking him to hit a pub that night. He'd turned all of them down; if Gina refused to spend time with him and actually communicate, he could at least do something fun with Jenna before leaving for America.

The blonde snapped. She whirled around and snatched the phone off its discarded place on the bed. Her eyes narrowed as she read.

'mick babes lookin for a good ride, u free tonite? call me hotrod xoxo'

Yet another girl who had no concept of marital boundaries. That or another who knew Mick wouldn't care about them a month into the marriage when the novelty of having a pretty young blonde wife wore off.

She threw the phone, hitting his leg. It bounced pitifully off the jean-clad flesh, landing on the comforter where he could read the message.

"I want a divorce."

* * *

><p>Uh oh! Who do you think said that last line? You'll find out next chapter. Will you find out what happened to Prophet? Maybe. ;) Stay tuned! Remember to leave a review if you could and THANKS EVERYONE FOR READING!<p>

Hornswaggler: You're right, I did forget the movie thing, but that was part of S6, wasn't it? Yeah I try to pretend that didn't happen LOL, I tuned out after JJ left but my mom kept watching so I mean, I heard the episodes but I wish I hadn't. I've got a bone to pick with the Doyle arc...  
>I don't believe Prophet ever actually WENT to the hospital. His arm was bandaged up but we're never shown that he went so I think it's pretty possible he tracks Rawlins down and shoots the mess out of him. I can't tell you how it ends but PRETTY POSITIVE Beth made it out alive based on the special features' comments. I just wish we knew too! Come on, one mention on CM. It's not that hard :C<br>Anyway thanks for reviewing and Reid/Emily FOREVER!

sunshine: I'm glad you think how I write the CM cast is right on - I'd hope after all the years I've been watching and rewatching LOL. Reid is just fun to write on his little tangents. Glad you're still enjoying the fic and thanks for reviewing as always (:

Stay tuned all I'll return with the next chapter.. soon!


	22. In Which a Decision is Made

Hello to all my dear readers and reviewers! We seem to be on a weekly schedule. Sorry for making you all wait but.. college ARGH. Hey, at least I'm getting the chapters out at all, right?

**Disclaimer**: nope still not mine

I am sorta tired and my brain is vacant of thought rn so not a lot of comments from me, just read and enjoy. Things aren't over yet!

* * *

><p>Mick had never been more shocked in his life. He stared, eyes wide and mouth gaping, at the blonde woman slightly to the side of him. Folded arms and a blank face showed no signs of backing down, though she averted her gaze when the sniper tried to meet it.<p>

Mumbled 'what's' and 'why's' made their way out of his mouth but he couldn't form a complete sentence. The iPhone's screen blinked off, turning to a dull black, but neither of the room's occupants noticed it. Despite being the straw that broke the camel's back, it was no longer relevant to either.

"I said, I want a divorce," Gina repeated, still unable to make eye contact.

"Bloody," he paused, apparently searching for the proper word, before deciding on, "Why?"

"It _should_ be obvious; the fact it isn't is another reason," she evasively replied. Not for the first time in his life, the sniper wished women didn't play these games. He didn't want to spend all day or week profiling some sick sadist sociopath only to come home and profile his girlfriend to see what precise detail was wrong now.

"How about you come out and say it then, if it's so bloody clear to you?" Mick scowled, but the pouting expression couldn't mask how hurt his eyes looked. Fortunately for his pride, the blonde refused to meet his wounded stare.

"Do we really need to do this? You ran around making up this massive chain of lies and forced it into something 'real' just to stay out of trouble. We were never really together and it's clear we never will be. It's easier if we end things now and hope work won't be too awkward. You can have fun being an unattached bachelor again; I wouldn't want you to feel _bad_ when you're meeting Marjory and Nina, not that you would."

He was too shocked to reply, trying to process her words to figure out where exactly he went wrong. Was she simply PMSing and going on a rampage or did she genuinely think he cared about two girls he and just about _all_ of his old mates had previously known intimately?

She took his silence as a confirmation he was accepting of the situation and continued, "I'm leaving today. You can stay with your sister or whatever; I'll have the divorce papers ready when you get back so you can sign them and be free."

With that, Gina turned, pulling on her suitcase, and walked out the door.

* * *

><p>"Hey Gina, where are you going with that? We're not flying back today. I was just about to ask if I could treat everyone to lunch," Cooper was the first to speak as the living room's three occupants watched the blonde lug her suitcase along, trying to keep her head up. She avoided looking at any of them and kept walking forward.<p>

"I'm going home, Cooper," she curtly replied, not bothering to elaborate. Someone muted the television, probably Jenna, and the female profiler cringed. Her soon-to-be-ex-sister-in-law wouldn't take this well.

"You bloody well aren't," Jenna growled, rising from her position sunken into the plush chair. Cooper moved in front of the fiery Welsh girl, who was clenching and releasing her fists.

Fickler rolled his eyes. This would have been much simpler if the agents merely talked about their insecurities and problems, instead of rushing into an inevitable marriage then trying to rush out. It also explained why _he_ was the director of the FBI – such a novice mistake would never be made by The Great Jack Fickler.

The director listened carefully in the momentarily silence, pushing the tension between the two women out of his mind. No sound came from the bedroom – Mick wasn't packing or moving whatsoever. He'd either magically offed himself in record time or was too shocked to do anything. The sniper wasn't even fiddling with his phone. This left only one explanation – if he wasn't dead, he'd been told he was getting a divorce.

"Now, now, girls. You're both pretty…" Fickler began in a terribly patronizing tone, apparently thinking treating the women like teenage drama queens was a valid solution, but Jenna cut him off.

"No, you shut the bloomin' horsefeathers up," she shouted, wheeling around to face the older man, who was shocked into silence as the Brit continued, focusing back on Gina, "And you, bloody what, ridiculous. Did he shag you up the nose and rattle your brain out of place or something, eh?"

Cooper sighed, the only one able to react. Fickler was too busy looking horribly offended at being interrupted and told off and Gina looked absolutely terrified she was being called out. The blonde likely hadn't thought through this fully and overreacted to something.

"Well, did he? I don't see what in blazes is wrong with my brother you need to dump him, he's a good old sport, I can't bloody believe you'd even think about leaving without him, as if you could pull a better chap you buffoon," the brunette girl ranted, coming very close to knocking her chair over several times.

"Jenna, take it easy," Cooper softly suggested, hoping being gentle with her would calm her down. It didn't.

"Bloody fool don't tell me to take it easy! I'm not letting my big brother get dumped by some idiot broad. She's prolly too loose and can't feel anything, that's the problem mates," Jenna carried on, showing no signs of letting up.

Coop took on a firmer tone, clearly indicating he was commanding her to settle herself, "Jenna, I said take it easy. Can you do that?"

She frowned, deeper she had been, but stopped talking, leaning uneasily against the wall. The brunette clearly wanted a fight, not realizing that probably wouldn't solve anything.

"I'm going to talk with Mick. Can you three silently wait here, or do you need a babysitter?" Cooper slowly asked, showing he thought everyone in the room was acting childish at the moment. Fickler bristled, irate at being thought of as a kid, but he nodded and returned to his immaculately cool and clipped persona.

The head profiler knocked on the closed door to Mick's temporary bedroom, but received no reply. He turned the knob, somewhat pleased it opened without struggle. The sniper was sitting on his bed, in much the same position he'd been left in, only he stared out the window. A vacant expression was on his face, not letting any emotion through.

But Cooper was not a top-notch FBI profiler for nothing. The entire situation reeked of an emotionally devastated man who didn't handle rejection and abandonment well.

"Mick?" he tried, but got no reply, "Mick? Come on, it's me."

The Brit wasn't having any of it. He either didn't want to speak with Cooper or didn't even mentally acknowledge the man was trying to reach out. Cooper slipped around to better see the sniper's face. His eyes looked completely gone, as though he was a galaxy away in his head. Mick got like this at times, if he couldn't cope with something that happened, but it had never been over a woman before, or this extensive.

Waving his hands right in front of the man did nothing either. This was clearly something only Gina could fix. She looked entirely out of her element and it was blatant she didn't truly want to leave the sniper, but felt cornered into it by something.

Cooper exited the room, not bothering to close the door behind him. He found, somewhat to his surprise, all three people spaced as far apart from each other as possible, shooting bitter glances but quiet. Pulling Gina's arm, he took her outside, fully expecting Jenna to rush to the door and eavesdrop the moment the door shut.

"Gina, what is this about?" he began, hoping she would open up to him.

"He's going to cheat on me," she spat, apparently just wanting to get this over with.

"Did he say that?"

"He didn't _say_ anything except 'why'."

"Did he act like he would?"

"Yes, well, not exactly. He's just…"

"Friendly with other women? But not outright trying to seduce them."

"Well…"

"Gina, go talk to him. _Listen_ to him. He's not taking this well. You judged him too quickly."

"You don't think he'll get bored of me in a month and find some new thrill?"

"No, I don't. I know him – he may come off as a self-absorbed prick but he does care. He's not a serial killer, he has the same feelings we do."

The blonde looked smaller somehow, as though she'd been scolded and felt like a child again, reacting too hastily. She nodded weakly, and leaned against the railing to pass her boss as she walked back in, averting her eyes from Jenna, who fixed her sour gaze on the blonde.

Cat fights were always fun.

* * *

><p>"Mick?" Gina's soft voice called out as she cracked the door open. She couldn't see him yet, but if she could, she'd have been able to observe the slightest of flinches. He still focused out the window, refusing to turn around, but she entered anyway, locking it behind her.<p>

The Brit recognized she was back in the room. Cooper had barely registered in his mind but her presence was the one he was hoping to sense. Come back to apologize and/or make sure he wouldn't want to keep the ring.

"I would've been loyal, you know," he distantly vocalized, still not moving a muscle. She jumped from the shock of hearing him speak after several minutes of silence.

Gina sighed. It would be easier if he didn't seem to actually care about her. But she replied, "Nobody else believes it."

He cynically chuckled, still refusing to look at her, and she couldn't walk the few more feet to look at his face. Then he was silent again.

"All those girls keep hitting on you, like I don't matter…"

That got him to whirl around, "Yeah, to _them_, you don't. No other woman matters because they bloody don't get it. Did I take a one of them up on their _offers_? No, I bloody didn't. I don't appreciate you trying to predict my choices, especially when you get it wrong, _love_."

The word was dripping with venom. It wasn't his usual, playful 'love' but a perversely angry evil twin of it. Gina averted her eyes to the floor, muttering the only thing she could, "I'm sorry."

"Oh, sure you are. Positively torn up you couldn't get out of the house without someone asking why you're leaving the dumb, British playboy and making you _talk it over_. Well we talked and you can go, if you don't give a care about me," he huffed, turning back to the window.

"Stop it. If I didn't care about you why would it bother me you'd go off with some other girl? I wish every time you get a text it wasn't some idiot trying to sleep with you but it always is…"

"And not once have you let me reply. You don't even trust me enough to turn them down right while you're watching."

She was silent, mulling it over. Unfortunately, that was true – she'd never given him the chance to prove he had no interest. Finally she brought herself to meet his eyes and instantly regretted it upon seeing how hurt they were.

"I… don't want to hurt you. I wouldn't, really I wouldn't, go off with some lonely broad who doesn't know a thing about me or being happy. You mean worlds more to me than all of them combined ever good. I, I trust you, love, I just wish you could try and trust me," he lamented, breaking the stare and glancing at the bed, settling upon looking at the neglected iPhone, lying still and blank.

Gina was quiet again, apparently waging an internal war. Mick almost thought she'd left the room but he hadn't heard her leave. He sighed and accepted she was going to admit she could never trust him not to be what she considered himself – a skirt-chaser out to mount as many conquests as he could.

"I can try… We can try," she finally blurted, and he wasn't positive that was what she'd actually stated, until she clarified, "We could give this whole being married thing a go. I don't _really_ want to be a divorcee before thirty. But no excessive flirting, no looking, no anything with other girls."

"Beth will find it a tad awkward I can't answer any of her questions, but she prolly won't mind too much I can't talk to her at all, eh," he joked, but it was an effort to mask his excitement that she was genuinely considering not dumping him.

"She's not into you, so she's safe to talk to," the blonde whispered, and it startled him, because he hadn't realized just how close she'd walked. She was practically in his lap, leaning over him, inching in.

And then she was in his lap and their lips were crashing together and Mick couldn't help but feel he was the luckiest man on earth.

"We should have a right proper honeymoon. I know a private castle I can get us into for a week. How's that sound for _exclusive_, dahling?" he muttered under his breath during a brief pause for oxygen.

She deepened the kiss in response.

* * *

><p>"Sam, you're an absolute idiot," Fickler scowled, grumbling as he shot a nasty glare down the hallway towards the young profilers' room. Loud moans had been emanating from it for the past twenty minutes and showed no signs of stopping.<p>

"I don't think so. They're together and happy as clams. Dumb broad just thought she couldn't handle how much she loves getting shagged by _my_ big brother," smirked Jenna, who was comfortably reclining in her chair once again, enjoying her favorite team destroying the competition while Fickler spat his coffee out every time they scored.

Cooper grinned, ready to take a cheap shot at Fickler, but the moment he opened his mouth, 'OH GOD DEEPER MICK IT'S SO GOOD OH DEEPER BABY' silenced him.

"Yeah I'm an idiot."

* * *

><p>Cooper: good decision or bad decision? The world may never know. Thanks for reading all, glad my reviewers are enjoying the fic. Leave a review if you could and expect the next update within the week (:<p> 


	23. In Which Penelope's Harem is Endangered

Hi everyone! Sorry there's like an extra week between updates, college and life and etc. BUT I hope to get the next chapter done by Sunday night so.. wish for the best! This chapter is mostly filler because I wanted to get the end scene in but it was hard to reach my desired wordcount, and the next sequence of events I didn't particularly want to begin yet, so this is just a comedy roll. Expect a big, big dramatic twist coming up! See if anyone can guess close to what it'll be.

**Disclaimer**: my. heart. stops. when I realize I'll never own the show :C

Thanks to my readers and reviewers, glad you all enjoyed the resolution of Gina's ill-informed declaration. And what ever will Jenna have to say for herself?

* * *

><p>"She was trying to walk out on him? <em>Why<em> did you stop her? I'd still have a thousand dollars you dick…" Beth seethed, shaking a pointed finger at her boss. She almost knocked over her beer bottle, rising up from the table in anger. Cooper recoiled, feeling somewhat embarrassed at shrinking away from the newest member of his team, yet on the other hand not wanting to wind up in a body bag stashed in her closet.

"Penelope babe, maybe you shouldn't have collected so early. I told you she wasn't stupid enough to stay with a player like him," Morgan smugly remarked, glad he was a few people away from the brunette woman. Both profiling teams had gathered at a restaurant, per their shared tech's request, to plan a wedding party for the Red Cell team's couple.

Beth and Prophet, of course, were none too pleased with the idea of celebrating the event that lost them a combined $2,000, but Prophet was more forgiving of the loss in the wake of two of his best friends' happiness.

"Derek, shut up and be happy for someone! Just because you're mad another bachelor proved it's possible to abandon the lifestyle and be contentedly monogamous doesn't mean you can go raining on their parade," Emily huffed, smacking him with a napkin. JJ and Garcia nodded, agreeing with their fellow girl.

Reid smirked from the other side of Emily, safely out of range of any Morgan counterattacks, but visible to the other man. Derek and Beth looked like twins, glaring angrily at their plates and ignoring everyone around them.

"So they're off on the end of their honeymoon now?" Rossi asked, swiftly breaking the silence before anyone could take a crack at someone else.

"Yeah, should be back in a week. Fickler decided to give them the time so we wouldn't need to deal with them during this phase," Cooper winked, turning his attention slightly away from the younger agents and to the men he was sitting by, Hotch and Rossi.

"Eh, they'll be alright. She's too intelligent to not notice the signs of cheating and he knows it," Rossi remarked, leaning back in his chair as he signaled the waitress for another drink.

"He can be impulsive, so he may not even think to hide it, because he'll just rush into something with another girl," Prophet pointed out, hoping that wouldn't be the case, as he genuinely wanted the man to not screw this up.

"Oh my delicious little hunk of overseas hotness would never do anything to hurt her. He's head over heels like the perfectly wonderful pushover he is, and only for her. It's so adorable!" gushed the tech, who clasped her hands together while Morgan rolled his eyes.

"What's wrong with domestic hotness?" he scowled, attempting to not-so-subtly flex his muscles.

"Nothing except it's all around me, like you when nobody's looking. He's exotic," she winked, and Reid awkwardly looked at the table, trying to avoid thinking about any of this.

"Oh come on pretty boy, don't tell me you're jelly of Penelope's exotic men harem?" Morgan laughed, but before Reid could counter, Beth butted in.

"I serial killed them all last night in a rage, nobody to be jealous of anymore."

"I _knew_ it!" Prophet shouted, as Cooper shook his head. What disturbed him the most is he genuinely couldn't tell if Penelope was in possession of a male harem, or if Beth had viciously dismembered each one.

"I think it's sweet they're alone at a remote English castle together, that's such a romantic honeymoon," JJ sighed happily, sensing the need for a swift change in topic; Emily readily agreed.

"It's too 1300's for me but it's perfect for them," Penelope conceded, knowing she'd feel a bit too out of touch being so far away from anything civilized.

"Any castle you could stay at through some official organization has been renovated to include modern conveniences. Original infrastructure is mostly the same but you wouldn't be living the way a castle's first inhabitants would," Reid cut in, earning a loud huff from Morgan.

"Stop acting so jealous Mick can score a hot wife and dreamy honeymoon destination and you can't," Emily retorted, glaring at her partner again, then high-fiving Reid, who was quite content to not be the subject of mockery for the evening.

"Aren't you jealous it's some younger blonde and not you?" Morgan shot back, one side of his lip pulling up haughtily.

"Clearly not, moron. She's his type, I'm not, and I wasn't interested in the first place," the brunette calmly explained, not letting a hint of envy slip. Reid's grin widened, glad Morgan still couldn't catch a break. For all the jokes the other man made about the genius, it was nice to see him bear the brunt of things.

"Girls, girls, you're both pretty," Rossi interrupted before Morgan could try and shoot her down, "We should simply be happy for the new couple and hope they last longer than Morgan on any given night."

"What are you…" he began, rising from his chair to protest, but a well-timed olive thrown by none other than Beth flew into his mouth and he gagged, plopping back down while thumping his chest.

"Good aim," Hotch commented, the slightest of smiles spreading on his face.

* * *

><p>Jenna Rawson aimlessly rolled over in her plush chair, disinterested in the polo game. She wasn't a huge fan of either team nor were they particularly notable this season. Instead, she was preoccupied with how snippy she'd been to the woman who seemed to be staying her sister-in-law.<p>

Sure, the comments would have been deserved if Gina actually did walk out on her brother without giving him a chance to prove himself, but she recanted in the face of the slightest opposition and now the couple was off screwing each other's brains out in a fancy but crumbling castle.

So she should probably apologize once they returned, but it took a lot of effort for Jenna Rawson to admit her mistakes. That was something she'd picked up from Mick, though it wouldn't surprise her if it was a family trait. Maybe the blonde wouldn't even remember the remarks; she'd likely been so focused on rushing out of the flat they may not have registered. Mick wasn't liable to have heard them either, from what Cooper said he was pretty spaced out.

Still, it wasn't a good idea to assume Gina didn't recall and have the insults brewing. Mick was the only family Jenna had, and now that he was married, it'd be awful if a wedge came between them because the women in his life couldn't get along.

The polo match was horrid. She wished Mick was still around, or her roommate was in town, or she wasn't still on house arrest thanks to the doctor's orders. Without family she was instructed to stay home, and in the middle of the day almost all her friends were working. Showing up at the castle her brother was staying at was a horribly awkward idea. The man had never enjoyed a third wheel. He had something against odd numbers in relationships.

Cooper and Fickler were long gone, probably safely back in America by now, and her new phone was being pissy about charging. Jenna sighed, staring at the remote which was just out of reach. Perhaps she could bake something, and then eat it all herself. Or she could invite some friends over for the evening. If only her phone wasn't beyond her grasp as well.

What would she say to the blonde? 'Sorry I accused you of having sex with my brother through the various orifices on your head.' That sounded snippy, and entirely disgusting. 'Hi Gina, I'm sorry I insinuated you were a moron for trying to leave my brother without giving him a chance.' That might work, it didn't blame either or sound sarcastic.

Having decided on a suitable apology, Jenna's mind shifted gears. Did having a sister-in-law mean having _more_ sisters-in-law? What sort of family did the American come from? Would they be trying to friend her on Facebook all the time? Mick didn't talk much about anyone from work's home life and background, probably because Jenna knew he didn't like to discuss his own to other people. He'd mentioned Gina to her several times but little about her family.

Perhaps Cooper would tell her. Then again, he'd also either be jetlagged and asleep or busy on a new case. She could ask once the couple got back; that way, anything Gina didn't want to share wouldn't be said. Hopefully they wouldn't try and invite her to Christmas parties every year and be offended if she didn't show up. She'd never liked Christmas very much, but she could imagine it'd be just her luck her in-laws would.

Apologize for coming up with some very sick disses and ask if she'd be dragged to fancy Christmas balls, check.

* * *

><p>Ten years earlier, Mick Rawson would never have pictured himself with a ring on his finger, lying on a soft bed where a pretty wife was safely wrapped in his arms, gazing out the sunlit window of an isolated but well-furnished castle on his honeymoon. Sometimes he still wasn't sure how exactly he got into this situation. He'd never been very good at the dating process, so it might be a good thing he'd coerced his bride into a rush wedding after a series of false claims for convenience.<p>

But here he was, slowly sinking into the sweet world of sleep, and hazily pondering his predicament. He had a wife who was willing to give him a shot to be a good husband and she'd been completely sober while saying 'I do'.

His phone had been turned off when they left and remained off. Nobody could bother him, asking for drinks, or a good time, or anything. But it was disconcerting to be focusing on one girl and not much else for a full week. He wasn't used to the pressure to pay so much attention to her. If he was going to be honest with himself, Mick had no idea how to actually _keep_ a girl. The notion had never been relevant – one night stands and casual flings were always enough. Desperate girls were tossing themselves at him, but now he needed to avoid all of them and focus solely on the blonde snuggled up to him.

Her hand twitched in her sleep and the ring, complete with a new, legitimately-obtained, gigantic diamond, gently scratched against his bare chest.

Was he lying to himself that they would last? Gina was clearly insecure regarding his prior _conquests_, as she kept calling them, and she may never be comfortable about it, always checking his phone. She could have fun with that but it would grate on his nerves his wife wouldn't trust him. Maybe he'd get incredibly lucky and she would start to believe he had no intention of being unfaithful.

Mick was used to things not lasting. Foster homes came and went until they were a blur in his mind. The only constant was his little sister, who he refused to be separated from. Now he was married and hoping he still would be, to the same woman, fifty years down the road.

His vision blurred, eyelids half shut and blocking most of the light, but sleep eluded him. Would her family approve of him, or constantly pressure her into leaving him for a wealthy lawyer or judge or businessman like he was _sure_ her sister would marry? Screw Gina's sister, and not in the sense that related to Gina herself.

He was well aware the blonde never wanted children, and if she never changed her mind, he'd accepted that. Some well-off idiot wouldn't be so approving of never producing an heir. Perhaps they would be alright in the end…

"Can't stop thinking about me?" she softly asked, a half-grin on her face, though she kept her eyes closed like she wanted to pass right back out.

"That's it exactly," he replied, a bit more seriously than he'd wanted to in his half-awake state, and her eyelids fluttered open.

"What about?"

"Eh, will your parents like me, will you still like me when I hit sixty, that sort of thing."

"I'm an adult, I would be happy if my parents approved of you, but considering they haven't had anything nice to say about any decision of mine, I'm over it if they don't. As for me, as long as you treat me like the most important and _only_ girl in the world, I'll still love you."

"Aw, dahling, I love you too."

"You're just saying that because you can't fall asleep and need a little exercise," she winked, finally moving from her cuddling position into a more predatory advance.

"Oh, rubbish, I'd tell you it," he paused to kiss her, "every," another kiss, "single," a third, "moment," a longer kiss, "if I could."

"Would you now?" she grinned, eyes hooded as she climbed on top of him and claimed his lips once again.

"Of course, _love_," he smirked, flexing his back muscles and swiftly flipping her over, "But there's just so many other uses for my mouth…"

She couldn't argue with that.

* * *

><p>So, we saw a bit of (almost) everyone here! Next chapter will begin the last big sequence of events before the story wraps up, but I'm thinkinghoping that will last for a few chapters before I tie it up. Let's see if I can stay focused and detailed enough LOL. So the end is coming but we have one more obstacle to overcome first. Will Penelope get to keep her $2000? Stay tuned! As always, reviews are GREAT and I enjoy reading each one. Thank you for reading and for sticking with the story we'll see if I can't churn out the next chapter this weekend. You're all SUPER FLY and that's your only hint about the next big twist ;)


	24. In Which Angry Birds Get MUCH RESPECT

Hello dear readers! Alright so it's unlikely my lazy mess will get more than one chapter a week out :C but you guys might get lucky with Thanksgiving and thus extra time! I'm back with Chapter 24, which is leading up to the big, final event that happens before everything is roses once again. Don't tune out yet readers, it's coming!

**disclaimer**: not mine.

Anyway, thanks to all my readers and reviewers for sticking through and reviewing. Love to hear your thoughts everyone! Now, here we go with a bit of an interesting twist... you'll have to let me know what you think of this idea, it's in the first section. Read on!

* * *

><p>For the first time all week, Gina's eyes fluttered open before her husband's. She glanced over at the alarm clock on her side of the bed: 6:50. Mick had another 20 or so minutes to sleep before she absolutely had to wake him up and rush him to get ready. He must have been tired from being on top all week to have not woken up before her like usual.<p>

Not that she was complaining about either detail.

Rather, it gave her a few moments to think without him clinging to her. Of course she appreciated his unwavering affection and focus, but there was something he ought to be told and she wanted to mull over how best to approach the subject. Mick talking to her or otherwise occupying his mouth didn't give her any personal time. She had been honest when she said her parents didn't matter, but even they didn't know about this.

The sniper was aware of her general feelings on children, but not quite how deeply they ran. When she'd told Cooper she never wanted a family, she hadn't been joking. And there was one way to ensure that, even if she did settle down with a man.

So how did she tell her unknowing husband she had her tubes tied years ago?

The scarring had vanished a few months back, so he wouldn't be able to tell otherwise. After saving most of the money from part time jobs, when she was accepted into the FBI she'd had the procedure done. Unaware of where she would end up, she figured it was safer to not have any risk of pregnancy than get an unwanted one thanks to the risks of the jobs. Cooper offered her a position on his elite, off-the-grid team, which negated most of the dangers, but she didn't regret tubal ligation.

It did mean Mick was forced into the situation, not that he could have changed her mind about getting the surgery, just that he could have not married a woman who would never produce his children. Or anyone's, for that matter.

But she had to tell him that; it was simply a shame there was a high chance he would react poorly to the news. And, of course, it was better to inform him earlier rather than later. He'd be less upset if she didn't keep it a secret until they were ten years down the road and he was curious as to why she'd never been pregnant. Waiting until the honeymoon week was over seemed reasonable, in case it did put a damper on his mood.

She was tempted to wait until they got back to America. Sitting on a plane for countless hours next to a man who didn't want to talk to her wasn't her idea of fun, but then she'd just keep putting it off. Gina sighed, softly as to not wake the Brit, considering what she should do. Glancing at the clock, she saw only ten minutes had passed by. She ought to start rounding their clothes up and making sure things were neatly packed. Shifting her arms to push herself off the bed, the blonde jolted when an arm pressed her down.

"Going somewhere, love?" the sniper simpered, in his 'let's have morning sex' voice.

"It's seven, we have to start packing, and _not_ in _that way_," she huffed, eying something shifting the sheets near his hips. Her hand drifted to her chest, draping lazily across the skin her necklace's pendant would normally cover.

Being married to a profiler had its disadvantages. Mick noticed the action, her hand tensely still with the lack of necklace to fiddle with, and commented on it, "Something's bothering you. Sorry doll, necklace gives you away every time."

She sighed, quite audibly this time. Back and forth in her head went the decision; perhaps she'd let him choose the time, "It's just something. You should know but I don't have to tell you now if you don't want."

His brow furrowed, a slight frown shifting the stubble growing on his face. Thinking back to Womanizing 101, a girl always has something seriously damaging to say if she offers you the option of hearing about it. A deep, dark secret…

Was Gina LaSalle born a man?

Mick considered just how bad that would be. She _clearly_ had all the proper organs now; he could deal. Her hand was trembling without the necklace to twirl – this was bothering her immensely.

"Better get it over with, love. Don't worry, I'm man enough to take it," he finally replied, propping up on an arm to face her.

Gina slumped into the bed, like she was trying to vanish into a hole. That was apparently not the answer she wanted, but she was going to come clean with it anyway. Lying would be pointless and make her untrustworthy – if she wanted this to work, she'd have to be just as honest as she expected of him.

"I had my tubes tied a few years ago and we'll never have kids," she blurted, and tried to roll over so she wasn't facing him. His arm held her down, though, despite what she figured would be shock.

His silence only lasted for a few seconds before he found a response, "Saves me from getting snipped."

She twisted back over to face him, "You don't care?"

"Of course I _care_, it's just not something I'll get upset about. You made the choice and while I like kids, I raised Jenna after all, if I don't have any, oh well. We don't exactly work in a bloody decent situation for it."

"Oh."

"I know a lot of men might be mad about it but you don't want a family and I'm ambivalent. There's no point in talking like it's something you can easily change. So don't feel too concerned about it, dear, I still love you."

She smirked, "Maybe there's enough time to _pack_ after all."

* * *

><p>Jenna Rawson anxiously skimmed the channels, frowning as each one showed yet another commercial. She glanced at her cell phone's screen, pressing a button to light it up and check the time. Her brother should be home any time now, with his beloved, new wifey in tow. And then she'd have to apologize.<p>

The brunette had been putting off figuring exactly what to say for a few days, only to realize it was today the couple returned for a few moments before heading to the airport.

Angrily, she slammed the 'off' button on her remote; not a single channel was airing anything decent and she was sick of propaganda for adult diapers. Perhaps she should have gone into philosophy, then she could determine why there was always utter bloody rubbish on at ten in the morning. She huffed and rolled over in the plush chair to glance out the window again, eyes widening when she realized two familiar faces were actually walking up to her flat this time.

Jumping out of the chair after a bit of struggling to face the right way and not fall over, she bounded over to the door and opened it, glad to finally have someone else home. The poor girl was going stir crazy with her friends all working and still being on house arrest to make sure her head wasn't overly stressed.

Mick sprinted the last distance towards his sister, hugging her, while his wife trailed behind. Jenna wasn't sure if it was simply because she couldn't be bothered to run, or remembered the harsh accusations and was upset. The Brit couldn't blame the other woman either way. Gina nodded as she passed through the doorway, so at least she wasn't ignoring her sister-in-law.

Her brother finally released her and went inside, lugging his suitcase behind him. He immediately went to the kitchen, as Jenna had promised to provide brunch before the plane ride. This gave Jenna a chance to corner her fellow female while the sniper would be distracted, in case Gina had never told him about their little altercation. He didn't need to know some of Jenna's more choice claims about their sex life. The blonde was startled to see someone waiting right outside the bathroom when she came out, hair combed neatly into a braid for the plane to keep it out of the way.

"Eh, so, I'm uh, well, y'know, sorry for eh, insinuating that uh…" Jenna began, suddenly feeling very out of sorts trying to phrase things right.

"That your brother's sexual habits rendered me a brain damage victim?" Gina helpfully completed the sentence, smiling as she understood what the other woman was trying to say.

"Well, yeah…" the brunette shrugged, pausing just long enough for Gina to continue.

"And that I couldn't find anyone better?" she added.

"That, uh, too…" nodded Jenna, finding a spontaneous fascination with the floor, but the blonde wasn't done.

"_And _that I'm a stretched-out tramp?" she concluded, folding her arms.

Jenna faltered, not entirely sure what to say. Perhaps her sister-in-law was mad and would try to drive a wedge between the only family the Brit had left…

"You were just mad I was going to hurt him, weren't you?" Gina supplied, noticing that the other girl was short on words.

"Eh, pretty much sums it up. He leaves plenty of girls coz they're not right for him, y'know, and he doesn't bloody care, but he likes you. S'not fair you don't even give him a bloomin' month," she nodded emphatically, hoping her raised voice wasn't carrying down the hallway.

"I think he'll be getting a lot longer than a month," the blonde winked, waving down the hall at her husband, who finally emerged with bacon dangling from his mouth, apparently curious as to why nobody else was eating.

"Bloody glad to hear it, doll. So, eh, you're not holdin' a grudge or anything, eh?" the brunette warily asked, wanting to confirm they were cool.

"People have said a lot worse to me for a lot less of a reason, so yeah, it's all good," she agreed, smiling, though it didn't reach her eyes as she reflected back on some of her family's more severe arguments.

The thoughts were gone by the time she was back in Mick's arms as he rambled on about how good the bacon was. There was no need to clue him in about those memories, especially in the last minutes he'd have with his sister for a while. The siblings got into a playful argument about what method of cooking bacon was better while Gina watched, content to silently munch on small pancakes, safely Americanized for her delicate taste buds. According to Mick, his little sister was never fond of gravy and puddings either and might as well have been raised in America based on her cooking habits.

After a while of casual conversation, Jenna escorted the pair back to her door, pouting as she turned the knob, opening it, "Bloody shame you don't have longer, or live closer."

"I know love, I wish we weren't an ocean away too. But hey, we've got bloody fancy phones now," Mick shrugged, somewhat cheerfully, but he was clearly upset at leaving his sister. Gina paused from pulling the suitcases out to kiss him tenderly on the cheek. Her giant diamond brushed against his hand as she grasped it with her own, squeezing, and he smiled down at her.

"I'll get these to the car," the blonde stated, knowingly rushing off to give the siblings a moment alone to say their goodbyes. They watched her lug the suitcases behind her as gracefully as she could, before turning back to each other.

"Now look, if you wind up in the hospital again I'm bloody shipping you across the ocean so I can watch over you every second of the day," Mick scolded playfully, a sad smile on his face as he brushed a stray strand of hair from his little sister's face. Her eyes shot to the side, as if she was glaring at the loose hairs and willing them to remain in place.

"I think your bird might have some problems with that, eh? But I'll try and stay safe. You too, blimey, you put yourself out with headcases and whackjobs on the daily. Consider yourself bloody lucky I don't have grey hairs yet or you'd be paying for my treatments," she laughed, hoping her eyes weren't watering too much.

"Haven't killed me yet. I love you, and I always will. Gina's not replacing you, it'd be bloody messed if I felt the same way about you two, so just know you're always my number one in just about everything."

"I'd sure hope you didn't, you need a girl to go home to every night and I bloody don't want to be her," they chuckled together, but fell silent quickly, before she continued, "But you treat her right, you hear? She really could be happy with you forever, unless you screw it up and go pork some ugly bird, like the bloody idiot you are. Don't mess this up or I'll, I'll disown you."

"Well I don't plan on it. She's perfect for me, I'd hate myself if I ruined things. Now you stay safe, alright love?"

"You too, big bro. I love you!"

"Love you too," he yelled, walking down to the car.

"Love you more!" she called, and he laughed as they continued on, trying to outdo the other until he opened the driver door and stepped in, glancing over at Gina who was expectantly staring at him.

"And I love _you_ most of all," he grinned, leaning in for the awaiting kiss.

* * *

><p>"Boring as dirt airport lounges," Mick scowled, glaring at the creeper who sat next to him and his bride. When they'd arrived, yet again a plane had been delayed and there was only one seat in the middle of the section. Seeing as Gina was so light, they'd agreed it made sense for her to sit in his lap. Unfortunately, this triggered a rather natural reaction and he was quite annoyed there was no private location they could sneak off to for the few minutes before their plane began boarding.<p>

"You're just mad you can't drag me up to a hotel room and ravish me for hours on end," she rolled her eyes, not bothering to spare the overly-interested man next to her any attention.

He tried to say something, apparently overhearing her statement and hoping it was in reference to him, but she flashed the giant engagement ring and he stormed off. Mick smirked against her hair, glancing back to the iPhone screen. The sniper reached his arms out again and grabbed Gina's finger, pulling it so the bird would launch properly.

"Still struggling with this level, eh?" he asked, cockily killing all the pigs with one bird. Gina was trying to beat Angry Birds once again but quite clearly failing.

"Not anymore," she spat, turning to glower at his smugness. The blonde tried to stand and storm off but his arms wrapped around her.

"Oh, love don't get mad, I don't mind you're horrid at the game. You excel at certain other things," he grinned, hands stealthily roaming over her body.

This seemed to placate her, as she leaned back against him and softly moaned, "We're still in an airport."

"Why do you think I brought blankets for the plane, dahling?"

She considered this for a moment, relaxing under his ministrations, before turning her neck to kiss him.

"I knew there was a reason I loved you."

* * *

><p>So yeah, what do people think of Gina getting said procedure? IDK if it's too much of a stretch from her stated views in canon or what but she seems like the sort who might. Anyway, glad you read and hope you enjoyed. I'll be back asap with another chapter, which will introduce the nextlast big action sequence.. it should be fairly long. Maybe this story will hit 30 chapters? Maybe not. We'll see! Stay tuned, hopefully you guys will like this last big twist.

Thanks for reading and review if you could, always appreciate your thoughts!


	25. In Which a Blanket Hides HandsOn Acts

Happy Thanksgiving everyone! I know, what a scrub I am having nothing better to do but watch CBS all day and write fic about crap that aired on their channel (we had the National Dog Show on first tho, my dog's littermate won it last year). My sister is stuck working so not much to do with my family. So I wrote. I should get another chapter up by Sunday evening, no sweat, I have some homework but not tons so let's get this show on the road!

**Disclaimer**: I would be very thankful if CBS gave me the show but alas, not mine.

Thanks everyone for reading and reviewing and enjoy!

* * *

><p>The plane had been delayed twice – once for a jet that stalled right behind it at the terminal and another for wildlife crossing the runway. It was still idling behind a smaller plane at the beginning of the ramp, waiting as animal control crews tried to chase the skunks off airport grounds.<p>

Mick was getting annoyed it was something useless like skunks that the planes couldn't just barrel over, but he was used to sitting around in a cramped, uncomfortable space and waiting. Only he didn't have a sniper rifle with him on an international flight. Instead, he had something much more interesting to play with. The woman next to him, trapped between his body and the jumbo jet's hull, was anxiously shifting in her seat, glancing out the window and sighing as the runway was still cluttered with skunks and ground officials.

There was no seat on the other side of him, only the aisle, and a middle of three seats, with two more on the plane's left side. He was glad the jet was designed this way as it provided a bit more privacy without someone squished up against him as he tried to hit up his wife for a good time. She clearly needed something to settle her down after the stressful takeoff delays, and he could deliver.

If he wasn't careful, she'd get up and start kicking skunks off the tarmac herself, and that wouldn't end well. Propping his legs up against the seat in front of them so she couldn't escape, he reclined in the dwarfed space he was allotted for the long ride and contented himself with watching her for the moment. Soon into the flight, once everyone was crashing from their temporary airplane-food-highs, he'd make his move.

Flight attendants were already eying him, as if they could just tell he was a newly-married man sitting beside his attractive, young wife. Sneaking off to the bathroom would never work out, so he went with the next best thing. Reflecting back on the last couple nights of their honeymoon and some of the things Gina could do with her hands, this was definitely a suitable second best.

"_The runway is clear, we will be taking off in ten minutes_," crackled across the loudspeakers on the plane, and Gina jumped, not expecting the pilot's deep voice. His thick accent muffled the words slightly, but the passengers understood enough to cheer.

The sound of a plane in front of them firing up its engines and moving off silenced the passengers, who eagerly anticipated the jet starting and taxiing down. Other planes crossed in the sky as they swooped down to land beside them, the jet in front looping around in the air to head off on its course. Finally the plane lurched forward, accelerating on the runway until it jumped as the nose pulled away from land, leading the rest of the plane up, up and away.

It climbed steeply, and Mick glanced up the aisle in curiosity. Most planes didn't attempt ascending so rapidly, especially not commercial jumbo jets. If they had propellers it might be at a stalling angle by now. Gina was fixated on a tiny speck of ice forming on the window and didn't comment on the plane's strange rise.

"Is this thing moving fast to you?" she asked, finally turning to face her partner, "I was counting the distance between clouds and landmarks and the intervals are off for a jet of this size, unless it stole some high-end military turbines."

"You know how to time a plane's speed?" was his incredulous reply, not expecting the blonde would be knowledgeable in the aeronautics field.

"I know how to set up top-of-the-line satellites and antennas, does being able to estimate the speed of a plane to compare to what normal cruising speeds are for various types really shock you?" she smirked, rotating further in her seat to lean against the backrest and talk with him.

"Not when you put it like that. What other dirty little secrets do you know?" the sniper winked, inching closer to his companion.

"Jenna told me about the time you lost your virginity and the girl was starting her period and you called a hospital thinking she was bleeding to death."

"Bloody rat! She knew she was never supposed to tell anyone about that. I'll have to put her diary entry about thinking Pee Wee Herman would be the best foster father ever on Facebook. You should prolly just forget you ever heard that rubbish."

"Hey, you asked what _dirty_ secrets I knew! I don't think military technology is dirty, unless you take into account how much is stolen or kept from the public. But still, you were asking for it."

"How far does this 'ask and you shall receive' concept go?"

"How bulky is the blanket to disguise whatever may occur?"

His eyebrows shot up. So she was interested in a bit of mile-high inflight entertainment. With the ridiculous price of movies and games on the planes and the horrid assortment of free programming, and a full night's sleep behind them, the profilers needed to find a better diversion.

"_Please turn your attention to the front of the cabin for in-flight safety_," boomed throughout the plane, and the profilers, though by now they could perform the ritual themselves after all their flights for cases, politely stared up the aisle.

Something caught the sniper's attention, and he focused on the flight attendant closest to them. She was older than the others but seemed on edge, as if she knew something the other stewardesses didn't. As soon as the instructions were complete, she rushed into the cockpit of the plane and wasn't to be seen again. Gina didn't look interested in the attendants in the least and was patiently waiting for them to complete their rounds of food and drink so nobody would pay much notice to the profilers' stealthily-shifting blanket.

Mick couldn't bring himself to pay for any of the overpriced airline food and simply requested water and the crispy cookies served on flights. They would be getting a free lunch later on due to the length of the flight, though it would be closer to dinnertime. The shift in time zones meant it counted as lunch, which was cheaper for the airline.

He passed the time as other passengers settled in to the flight staring out the window, admiring the way unfiltered sunlight reflected on his wife's hair, making it more golden than usual. It was probably more accurate to say he looked at the woman beside him and as a byproduct out the window, but semantics had always annoyed him.

Glancing around to check the status of potential onlookers, the people across the aisle in the middle section were all asleep. Looking to the back of the plane, the flight attendants were out of sight, mulling about, except for one who was fiddling with a crossword puzzle. The sniper leaned over to pull their window shade down, startling Gina, who hadn't been expecting the sudden movement.

He tugged a thick, wooly blanket out of Gina's oversized purse, which he had been stuck carrying. Fortunately his manhood could handle the bitter snickers and muffled jokes from teenage douchebags thinking it was funny. Anything to stop his wife from complaining her bag was _so heavy_.

Tossing the fleece over their two seats and making sure it was sufficiently bunched to mask any sneaky movements, he grinned at the blonde.

"I'll scratch your itch if you scratch mine."

* * *

><p>Penelope Garcia was excited. She had just finished picking up the chocolate lemon cake both profiling teams contributed to purchase for the impending celebration that night. Everything else was checked off her list – all the decorations were in place at Rossi's mansion and the writer was busy cooking for the party, alongside Hotch and JJ while Prophet played with their sons in the yard. He had volunteered to handle childcare duty if someone else cooked while the tech was out running last-minute errands.<p>

Cooper and Hotch had generously given everyone a lax day, with neither team having a case come in. Both squads could afford a lazy break from their usually-gruesome work to prepare for the evening's events.

Garcia hoped the overseas profilers would have enough energy to appreciate their friends' efforts in hosting a dwarfed BAU version of a reception. They would probably sleep on the plane once they finished shagging in the bathroom. At least, the hacker assumed they would. Angry Birds got tiring when your wife couldn't get past level two on her own.

Regardless, the happy couple would be dragged into a celebration of their marriage whether they liked it or not. Penelope had been scurrying about, trying to figure out exactly what they would want all week, and she felt that finally, everything was perfect.

It had _better_ be perfect, or she would hang someone out to dry. Nothing went wrong on Penelope Garcia's watch when it came to her friends, and if it did, she would fret over it for weeks. She had complete faith in her favorite BAU team's cooking skills, and having personally decorated herself, was confident everything was right. The cake, however, might be gone by the time she reached Rossi's house if she wasn't careful. It smelled rich and velvety, the perfect blend of the new couple's favorite flavors; and conveniently one of Penelope's own beloved combinations.

Fortunately for the cake, she arrived at Rossi's mansion without incident. Morgan had shown up moments earlier to help her unload the cake, and Beth drove into the driveway while they were carrying the large confectionery inside. Emily and Reid had been tasked with picking up the fancy charm bracelet Beth remembered Gina showing Mick months before, lamenting she had no one to gift it to her. He had been intrigued by the sparkling charms but, upon glancing at the other items in the catalogue, picked out several jewelry pieces he'd sooner buy her, in the event an occasion to buy her expensive gems cropped up.

Cooper was in a meeting but had assured the others he would arrive safely before his team members would. Fickler was assigned to pick up the couple from the airport, mostly to throw them off. They wouldn't expect a surprise party with the director of the FBI ushering them into his luxury car.

Rossi reluctantly popped the champagne open after Beth began complaining they had all arrived superfluously early. Emily and Reid rushed in after two bottles were gone, divided amongst the rest of the team.

"Sorry we're so late! We got the most absurdly nosy clerk ever who tried asking us about every minute of our 'relationship,' and then Spencer decided it would be _hilarious_ to describe how we have anal sex while dangling from a chandelier because it increases blood flow to certain pleasure nodes. She didn't take kindly to that and called security, thinking we were perverts," Emily glared decisively at the genius blushing beside her, "I can't see why, but Reid managed to talk them down and the manager came out, understanding his employee was a bit too interested in other peoples' lives and sold us the bracelet."

"Spencer Reid, anal on a chandelier! My, my, Pretty Boy, you got _game_," Morgan smirked, standing up to thump the other man on the back.

"Don't say that where Mick can hear you, or I'll kill you for giving him ideas," Beth glowered, already feeling sick from the thought of it.

"I'd help, what a horrible thought, man. He'd film it and think it was cool to show us…" grimaced Prophet, glad the two children were safely out of hearing range.

"Look, they're young, and stupid, let them have a little fun," Rossi shrugged, downing the rest of his glass.

"I don't want to hear about it," chorused the two Red Cell agents at the same time, and the others laughed.

Cooper opened the door amidst the laughter, smiling at Hotch as he tossed his important papers onto one of Rossi's counters so they would be safe inside the house. The team leaders met in the kitchen, letting the younger profilers, and Rossi, continue cracking jokes.

For his part, the Red Cell leader was glad no tension existed between Emily and any member of his team, and she was nothing but happy he was married to someone else. He hadn't figured their flirting was anything serious, or that a smart, older woman like Prentiss would be stupid enough to believe the sniper was interested in something beyond one night. Still, it gave him peace of mind that everyone was happy with the impromptu marriage.

Even Fickler was willingly getting into the spirit of things and celebrating, though he would never go around acting like Penelope to express his happiness. Cooper wasn't quite sure anyone would ever act like Penelope beyond the tech herself, though he considered that a bit of a shame – the world could use more Penelope Garcia's.

"How was the meeting?" Hotch asked, business first as always. It had been about budget cuts to the more extraneous FBI teams, which as the BAU leader knew, was never good.

"We coasted through, no cuts for us. You've set a precedent, apparently, for fighting off cuts. Thanks," Cooper grinned, pulling the man into a quick side hug. Hotch smiled, barely perceptible, but still there nonetheless.

They were about to rejoin their teams when Fickler flung the door open and pointed at Sam, a grimly serious expression on his face. He jerked his thumb over his shoulder, indicating Cooper should accompany him.

"Fickler, what's the problem?" Hotch was the first to react, keeping his voice down so the teams wouldn't be alerted.

The director sighed – nobody would like the answer.

* * *

><p>Uh oh! Wonder what Fickler has to say. Any thoughts on what might have happened to our poor profilers? Some MickGina quality time AHEM at the start, cutting to Penelope and the teams being themselves. Again, hope everyone had/has a great Thanksgiving, and thanks for reading. If you could leave a review, that'd be grand! Also, glad to see some more fics cropping up in our tiny little section. I've got the casefic up next, with some oneshots looming, so prepare for that. It'll be a fair bit different from this and Suspect Covers, more of an actual case, but not shoving poor Gina into the corner and later Mick (wallflowers anyone?) like on the show. ANYWAY, you're all great, so happy Thanksgiving (: And stay safe on the roads if you're going out for Black Friday tomorrow.. I'm not but oh well.

Also, though it's repeating this week, Beau has been on CSI: NY the past two episodes and the conclusion of her little mini-arc is NY's next new episode, so tune in for her. She's clearly not playing Gina but if you need a little taste of poor CMSB, well, you have one actress on another CBS spinoff so, tune in I guess.


	26. In Which Fickler and Cooper Get a Call

Hi ho everyone! So it's barely still Sunday but it is. Guess homework and so on took a bit more time this weekend than I thought! But, luckily for you all, I did manage to churn out the next chapter. Let's see what exactly is happening to our poor profilers...

**Disclaimer**: not in my possession.

Thanks for reading all (:

* * *

><p>The pervading sense of unease stirred Mick from his slumber, head protectively on top of his wife's, which rested on his shoulder. He allowed his eyes to roam the cabin, glancing for immediate signs of trouble, but without making it obvious he was searching by moving his head, nothing was visible.<p>

As a sniper, he was trained to always be on the alert. Constantly he was searching for threats and emotional airs that weren't right. This habit began during his time in foster care, being bounced around, always trying to see how trustworthy the people in charge of him and more importantly, his sister, were. Jenna was the only thing he had left to protect, and he made sure to consistently be aware of their surroundings.

That made it easy to pick up sniper regiments. He was used to many of them, just under different names for different purposes. Then after coming to America, and meeting the lone female member of his new team, those senses amplified once again.

He remembered the day he first met Gina. Prophet was still on a plane, flying over from the west coast, when Cooper began assembling his crack squad of fringe profilers. Mick had been skeptical when his friend boasted about the academy cadet he'd plucked before graduation, only to be reminded he himself had no actual profiling training, only years of experience watching for dangerous people and their motives, along with surveillance skills decades beyond what Cooper could easily pluck out of the American system onto a rogue team.

When Cooper led Mick into the team's temporary office, which was more of a departing FBI suit's private meeting room vacated until further notice, he thought this was a test and he was supposed to interview a witness or victim. The delicate, beautiful blonde sitting nervously in one of the chairs was certainly _not_ his idea of a profiler.

Sam had said she was fresh from the academy but the sniper wasn't sure she was even legal. She bolted out of the chair when they walked in, trying to mask how tense she was, and rushed over to meet them. Introducing herself, she shook his hand for much too long, then proceeded to explain she wrote her most important academy paper on the army's sniper profile. Already he felt like a zoo animal, with Cooper dangling him in front of the eager young girl in the hopes of making her do a trick. But she had a nice smile, even though it wasn't fully in her eyes. That's when he saw the vulnerability in her, and though Sam had said it was rude to profile your teammates, his natural instincts kicked in, and the only thing he could think was nobody ever believed in this girl, except Cooper, or he wouldn't have picked her.

Young Gina LaSalle tried to be strong and put on an air of confidence, but Mick could tell she was a time bomb without proper support. He knew a lot of girls who had been beaten down and never tried to be brave, but this one wanted to do something more. And he was transfixed. Cooper left to wait for Prophet, allowing the new teammates time to bond.

She looked like the perfect mix of fragile and 'I will break your neck' tossed into one very attractive, blonde package. Mick Rawson was intrigued, in more ways than one. Vaguely reminiscent of his sister, she wasn't significantly younger than him, but she did need to be protected and supported. It was his mission to keep her safe. Perhaps Miss Gina could be something if she was given the chance.

By the time Cooper returned to introduce their fourth member, Prophet, Mick already had the matter settled. Gina was his default partner, an enigma of stifled intelligence that he would prevent from getting beat down.

That same innate sense of protection was at work now, as the plane's atmosphere grew more stiflingly tense. Someone was plotting, knowing it was dangerous and wrong. The sniper scowled, daring to lift his head to get a better feeling of the situation. The high seats cut off a lot of his view, along with the center aisle, isolating him from the opposite windows. He didn't want to rouse Gina immediately, before trying to pinpoint the source of anxiety. His own distress channeled onto her, though, and she nuzzled against his shoulder, waking up.

Noticing his grim features, she quickly asked what was wrong, tugging herself fully from the realm of tenuous airplane dreams. A rushed glance at his iPhone, sunk into the Brit's pocket, indicated there was around an hour left of the flight and they were approaching American waters rapidly.

"I don't like the atmosphere. It's off. The awake passengers all feel nervous," he whispered, leaning back towards his wife to make sure nobody overheard.

She reached a hand up to pull him into a kiss, masking their intent to discuss, "It does feel weird. Remember how quickly we took off?"

"The oldest flight attendant was antsy too, if she ever came out of the cockpit I was asleep," he nodded, unable to break their cover of making out to check if the stewardess was milling about again.

"You don't suppose there are hijackers onboard, do you? I'd think international security would be tight, but hey, maybe someone really wants my ring."

"I'm not quite sure what else would be storming up such an ominous tension, love. Though I doubt anyone would storm a plane by force just for our legally-purchased diamond, even if it is the best possible ring for the best possible girl."

"You're just trying to distract me so you can get lucky one last time before we die," she grinned, dragging a playful hand down his chest.

"Oh doll, I don't need to _distract_ you to thoroughly _enjoy_ your close company," he smirked in reply, content to let the blonde have her fun. She stopped, eyes focusing on something.

"Movement. A man's standing up, reaching for something. There's two more, near the front of the plane," she whispered, as quietly as she could, concluding by licking his earlobe so it looked like an innocent gesture of romance instead of espionage. He shuddered, almost forgetting the circumstances, before nodding.

"The front two will storm the cockpit, back one has a weapon to control the passengers," he reasoned, not daring to turn around but thinking of the most likely attack format between three men.

Even though he was expecting the shouts, the sniper still froze, arms protectively wrapped around his wife, when the first man started screaming.

* * *

><p>Fickler jerked his thumb once again and Cooper rushed over, Hotchner following closely. Business as always, Hotch was the first to ask what the situation was.<p>

"English airports received rumors of a hijacking attempt to take place today. Unfortunately, authorities could gain no information on it, and tightened security, but heard nothing further. Twenty six minutes ago, Washington National Airport lost radio contact with Flight 9441, from London to Washington, DC. Satellites images of it indicate despite a sharply declining flight pattern, it is still in the air," the director paused, allowing the men to absorb the information and understand what it meant.

He continued as they nodded grimly, "However, Flight 9441 has sharply angled away from its destination airport and towards New York City. No reason was given for the change. The last few seconds of contact picked up shouts before the radio went silent. Cooper, your agents are on that flight."

Hotch narrowed his eyes, immediately realizing the gravity of the situation. Two FBI agents were trapped onboard a hijacked plane, aimed at New York once again. If government countermeasures didn't blast them out of the sky, the terrorists would either kill the passengers or crash the plane. He tried to run numbers in his head, though Reid would be ideal for that right now, of the number of planes that went radio silent and weren't passenger missiles as opposed to ransom demands.

The figures were not good.

Cooper was stunned, a fair bit mortified by the situation. Two of his closest friends were stuck in a deadly game of chance with terrorists. Worst of all, they were returning from their honeymoon. He wasn't sure whether to count on Mick to come up with a plan or get killed almost instantly doing something rash.

"How are we playing this?" the Red Cell leader asked, as soon as he could think to use his mouth again.

"Hotch's jet is fueling, we'll drive to it and fly up. If we can get radio contact, perhaps we can profile the terrorists. If they land, we can negotiate for the passengers. We're leaving now," Fickler rattled off, fully serious and processing information as quickly as he could to handle the situation.

"What can I tell the teams?" Hotch queried, opening the door for the two men to show them out. He knew everyone would get incredibly curious at the delay and where Cooper went, but there was also the delicate matter of secrecy and false hype.

"Tell them the plane is in jeopardy via internal assault but the situation maintains absolute silence. Nothing is to leak about this. If the terrorists are getting outside contact they cannot know our theories," the director ordered, nodding as he opened the door to his car and slipped in, Sam approaching the passenger side.

Hotchner shut the door and turned towards the room where his agents were, unsure of the most delicate way to phrase things. Rossi, passing through for refreshments, caught his eye and hurried over, immediately sensing something was wrong.

"Their plane went silent and turned towards New York."

The Italian understood at once.

* * *

><p>Sam Cooper tentatively fingered his phone, the glow of its illuminated screen bouncing off his jacket and face. Gina's father was calling, and he had absolutely no answers. Fickler glanced over to read and told his friend to pick up on speaker.<p>

"General?" Sam uneasily greeted, attempting to sound cheerful.

"No time for games. Why has my daughter's plane shot down five thousand feet and made a mad dash for New York?" the stern man replied, clearly allowing no room for nonsense.

Fickler sighed and decided to give him the truth, "As far as we can tell, it's hijacked. Sam and I are heading to another BAU team's private jet to fly to New York and get intelligence on the situation."

"I'll meet you at the airport," the blonde's father stated, in a blunt tone which left no doubt he was not asking permission.

"Have any sway with the Air Force? We have two Red Cell FBI agents on the plane, no need to blast them out of the sky the second the flight comes into range if we think they can retake it, or at least prompt a water landing," Fickler queried, having already been alerted Air Force fighters were being redirected to intercept the jumbo jet.

"Enough to get them to _escort_ it safely to an airport," he scowled, displeased with the situation. His daughter was trapped on a terrorist-controlled jet barreling towards America's largest city, and the military was not being caught unaware twice.

"All electronics on the plane are off. Nobody can be reached, from what analysts tell me. It's completely silent. No way of knowing if the passengers are alive or who is in control. I don't need to tell you, LaSalle, this is grim. Every man's worst nightmare – dealing with a ghost plane rocketing into New York City, especially with family aboard," Fickler sympathized, reflecting back on what his secretary had told him when she called him. She was tracking all data inflows on the situation, scanning for relevant tidbits, and texted him whenever something new came in. Cooper was checking the texts, but so far there was no promising news for the safety of the passengers.

General LaSalle's car engine was roaring in the background, creating an eerily loud static effect over the cells. He was racing towards the airport, prepared for the worst, but also prepping himself to take charge of the situation and run it effectively. Being trigger-happy would demoralize the public at the loss of so many innocents, but waiting would allow terrorists a valuable and deadly approach.

Worst of all, his poor daughter was trapped on a gigantic bullet aimed straight at New York. The odds she would walk off the plane, safe and sound, with that new husband of hers, and wave to her own father once again grew slimmer every minute.

* * *

><p>Uh oh! sunshine you were right, terrorism is indeed behind all this mess. How will our profilers get out of things? Or is it even terrorism? We'll have to see! Stay tuned, readers, and as always, thank you for sticking with the story and reading! Reviews are much appreciated as per usual, I enjoy reading each one. Provide your thoughts for me LOL I like to see what you're all thinking. Thanks for reading and look for the next chapter within a week.<p> 


	27. In Which Angry Birds Goes ByeBye

Hello everyone! So, so sorry to have kept all you loyal readers in suspense, but you guys know how it is, college finals crop up and you get swamped with five essays. The good news is, I'm on break now and should have a lot more time to write for two weeks! I feel bad having left everyone with this horrid cliffhanger but we're back in action!

Just an FYI, I'm gonna do a Christmas oneshot with both BAU teams, but I'll post it in the Criminal Minds section. So be on the lookout for that and I'll let you guys know in an AN when it's up on the next chapter I post here.

**Disclaimer**: doubt CBS will give me the show for Christmas so, not mine.

Thanks to all my readers and reviewers for sticking with me so far, sorry to have kept you waiting but here's the next chapter!

* * *

><p>"Turn all electronics off at once, or you will be shot! This plane is under our control now, obey our demands," the lone man shouted, pulling a semi-automatic out of his dark brown bag and leaping over the terrified young male next to him. He was near the middle of the plane and pulled all eyes to him, though Gina was aware the yell was coming and focused on the front two men instead.<p>

They extracted smaller guns from matching bags and rushed forward, ripping the door to the cockpit open and slamming it shut. Gina winced when she heard three gunshots, though the sounds of the bodies slumping to the ground were masked by the plane's engines.

The jet lurched to the left, rotating on its side. Passengers flew onto each other in their seats, but the single terrorist left in the cabin held onto a seat, prepared for the inevitable loss of control between when the pilot was killed and a terrorist took over.

Mick steeled himself against the necessary jump back to the right, falling slightly onto Gina when the terrorist pilot grabbed the controls to not make it obvious he was well aware of the situation. He reached into his pocket to grab the iPhone and shut it off, though the blonde questioningly glanced between his eyes and the phone.

"It's suspicious if we don't have a phone, we need to blend in," he whispered, though his voice cracked when the plane shot left again, and he hoped the terrorist didn't hear. The man didn't appear to, as he was too busy shouting for silence and obedience. The gun was swung inches over passengers' heads to signify the very real threat of a weapon which could fire multiple bullets a minute, or cause a concussion if used as a bludgeoning device. The terrorist hadn't moved forward and was still a few rows behind the couple, separated by the middle aisle as well.

This also meant he was too far back for the sniper to rush when the plane sharply dove, the passengers briefly feeling weightless and suspended in the air as the plane tried to stabilize from its rapid drop. The man's loose, khaki clothing floated as he scanned the room, eyes darting back and forth like he was waiting for an attack.

"There will be no electronics allowed, you will stay silent, any disrespect earns you this!" he trumpeted over the plane's groaning engines, before slamming the bulk of the gun into a businessman's head.

Gina squeaked, like she was ready to start negotiating and talk him down, but silenced herself. This wasn't their typical serial killer unsub. As the gentleman's skull cracked with a nauseating snap and he barreled forward into the back of the seat in front of him, she held her tongue. The profilers were in no situation to reason with these terrorists – they were armed, dangerous and had just succeeded in taking over the plane, while the agents had no weapons, vests or backup.

The plane leveled out again, but Gina could sense the slight downward angle. Whoever was flying didn't have a very high skill level, as they were unable to keep the plane flying straight or flat. It banked to the right for a final time, steeper than the curve needed to be. They were probably close to America by now, and aiming north of DC.

"I think we're heading to New York," she informed her partner, keeping her voice very low as she leaned closer to him. The blonde watched as he paled and shot an uneasy glare back at the terrorist, who had pulled his bag back out and was heading to the rear of the cabin to collect electronics.

"Then we either retake the plane, crash en route or into a building, or get shot down."

* * *

><p>Rossi and Hotch emerged from the kitchen together, and the teams immediately went silent. An air of dread surrounded both agents, who didn't bother trying to mask their grim expressions. There was no point in beating around the bush – the profilers needed to know what the situation was.<p>

Reid was the first to ask. He didn't know the couple very well, but he was a curious sort, and if he inquired, the men would be required to tell the truth. You didn't lie to Reid, because he connected the dots and either realized you were lying, or felt terribly betrayed later on if he lent you his trust.

"Something happened during the flight. Communications went down and it's now heading for New York. Cooper and Fickler are on their way to JFK Airport now. This information does _not_ leave the room, is that clear? If we want our agents back, the assailants cannot feel threatened someone is onto them," Hotch explained, looking into the eyes of each agent. His serious tone communicated the necessity for an information blackout.

"Get me on that plane," Beth fiercely commanded, shooting off the couch to stand up.

"Easy there man, they don't have transporters yet," Prophet hushed, grabbing her arm and pulling her back down. He knew it was the brunette's way of evasively expressing how much she cared for the younger agents, even if they annoyed her to no end at times. Morgan softly chuckled at the Red Cell agents, a wistful smile on his face. He would've had the same reaction as Beth if it was two of his team stuck on a hijacked plane. In fact, he still somewhat wanted to get on the jet and take down the unsubs before anyone was hurt, but that was sadly not an option.

Penelope screeched a mournful cry, her eyes quickly filling with tears. JJ rushed to her side and wrapped her arms around the tech. Reid and Emily immediately turned to her as well to console the hacker. She dearly loved all the members of her teams, but there was something about the younger agents that always brought out the most protective Penelope Garcia.

"They just got married, they should be here and celebrating with us and then going home to be climbing all over each other and so happy…" the hacker trailed off, her lip quivering as JJ rubbed her arms comfortingly. Penelope seemed to sink into the couch with each passing moment, as though the only thing that could drag her back out before she disappeared into the cushions was news on the profilers.

Beth downed another glass of champagne and turned to glare at Prophet, who sat beside her mindlessly fiddling with his hands. The other team knew all too well how they were feeling. Part of your family is trapped somewhere dangerous and you can't do a thing to help them.

Emily sighed – she didn't want another unit fretting over a potential loss when in this case, there was no way for the profilers to save the couple. She retracted her hand from Garcia's knee to look at the Red Cell unit. If she kept their minds on the good times, the news, one way or another, would come faster. Clearing her throat despite the uneasy, ominous silence, she posed her first request, "So how about you tell us the story behind this bracelet? You said Gina was 'begging' him for it, give us all the dirt!"

The shorter brunette quirked half her lip up into a smile.

* * *

><p>General LaSalle was five feet ahead of his FBI plane-mates at all times once the BAU jet landed in New York. His quick pace, though not entirely abnormal for the military man, showed just how concerned about his daughter he really was. Aiming for the control tower where Fickler had said counterterrorism operations were underway, the general led the way at a blistering speed.<p>

"He's on edge. Look at the forced way he holds himself. This hijacking is pissing him off more than he cares to admit," Fickler whispered to his friend, safely out of the other man's hearing range.

"I don't think he ever came to terms with Gina growing up and taking on a dangerous career. She's still a child to him, his pretty, safe daughter," Cooper replied, shrugging. He wasn't about to profile the general, but there were some obvious facts.

"Or joining the FBI. He never wanted her to in the first place, and now her life is in grave danger."

Cooper reached out to grab the swinging door, which the general hadn't bothered to hold open due to the space between the three men.

"He took her spontaneous marriage alright. Did you know Mick called him? To ask if he could marry her? Kid has guts to call a man like LaSalle out of the blue like that. He's still worried, even if they have each other on the plane."

"Imagine Gina without Rawson's special brand of moral support. She wouldn't be able to retake the plane on her own. He might not be able to either. Not that her father will care, he just wants this resolved."

The general turned, standing outside the last door before the control tower's center, where the terrorism units were already hard at work alongside airport personnel. An identification card was needed to get through, and Fickler swiped his ID across the glass. Being the FBI's director had its perks.

Two agents rushed over to meet them, leading the trio to a table with schematics of the plane's layout, files on all passengers and information on recent terrorist movements. Some of the suits surrounding the data nodded to Fickler, who recognized them as well.

"Gentlemen, we have two FBI profilers onboard this plane. Violence is not recommended until there is an unsafe distance between the plane and our population. This is Cooper, their unit's leader, and LaSalle, father of an agent," Fickler introduced, reviewing the information in front of him as quickly as he could.

"What makes you think violence isn't necessary yet?" a dark-skinned suit asked, one Fickler didn't recognize. Three men around him nodded, apparently all acquainted with each other.

"Agent Rawson is ex-Special Forces, if the hijackers have a gun and he gets it he can take them all out in a matter of seconds with no harm to civilians. Assuming the passengers are alive and half the plane isn't terrorists, my agents stand a good chance of subduing the threat," Cooper explained, reaching for the file on Mick to pass around.

"What about the other profiler?" one of the men near the skeptical suit queried.

"My daughter is perfectly capable of assisting her hus… fellow agent in retaking the plane," LaSalle firmly stated, not liking the other man's tone as he rolled his eyes at Gina's file. It was likely a bad idea to let the suits know the profilers were married, as couples always increased the risk factor for success. None of them seemed to notice the slipup, and the files weren't updated with his daughter's new last name yet.

"If the plane maintains radio silence into the safety zone, the Air Force is standing by to shoot it down. Planes are en route to track it. Your agents have until then, Mister Cooper, to eliminate the threat," another general spat, scowling at the data in front of him.

* * *

><p>Mick dropped his iPhone into the Arabic man's bag, which was over half full already with electronics. The collector glared at Gina, "Where's your phone?"<p>

"It… it doesn't work in, um, England, I didn't, you know, b-bring it…" she stuttered, eyes going wide while she pressed back against the cabin's wall. He eyed her but could detect no dishonesty, so he walked on, muttering something in Arabic under his breath.

The sniper snarled – he recalled enough of the language to know if this man wasn't part of a trio of gun-wielding plane-nappers, he would be on the ground bleeding for that remark. But he held his tongue and glowered at the man's back as the terrorist proceeded up the aisle.

He turned to his wife, who was once again calm and observant, "Good cover love, he bought it without a second thought."

"I'd hope he did or we'd have bullets through our skulls. Do you have a plan, babe?"

The Middle Easterner started yelling again when he reached the front of the plane, explaining what all was going to happen. He refused to state the destination of the plane, just that it was going to a very important target in New York City. When he finished his tirade and took up residence next to the front-most bathroom doors, Mick slumped into his seat to secretly converse with the blonde.

"We need to get up there. If we get close enough to him I can get the gun and kill the ones in the cockpit, but the problem is making it to that point before he starts shooting," the sniper explained, pausing every so often to glance up the aisle and gauge the distance.

"Any idea on how to get up there?" the blonde inquired, and after he shook his head, smirked, "I've got a plan."

* * *

><p>So now we've got 3 individual scenes going on - the profiling teams waiting at Rossi's house, airport control with Fickler, Coop and Gina's dad, and of course, our star profilers trapped on a hijacked plane. Expect to see Beth's story told next chapter.. can't go TOO heavy on the drama without some fun! Will Gina's plan work? You'll have to keep reading to see if at first they don't succeed, they're even alive to try, try again.<p>

Also shoutout to reviewer Lilli, I feel like it's been ages since I've seen you around to leave a review girl! Thanks to the Greencarda-seeking reviewer for your consistently golden reviews and sunshine for your thoughts as well. Hope school's been fine for you and you update soon! Anyway thanks for reading all, remember to leave a review if you could! I love hearing your thoughts (:

ALSO ALSO, anyone else see Michael Kelly on Person of Interest this past week? I wonder if he'll be back. He's been on The Crap Wife too (sorry I clearly don't like the show lmao), and Beau was on CSI: NY for 3 episodes. Anyone waiting for Matt Ryan's stint on another CBS procedural? Glad they're all on CBS to some degree.. makes it easy to still get my CMSB fix somehow. PoI is fair enough as a show, better than CBS' other new dramas. Cancel that dreck at once lol but PoI is ok.


	28. In Which Angry People Yell

Hi guys, happy New Year! First update of 2012... not really sure where my break went lmao ugh, time flies don't it. Anyway, back with another chapter! Let's see how things are progressing for everyone.

**Disclaimer**: not mine. too bad.

Big thanks to all my reviewers and readers for sticking with this story, and also thanks to my fellow CMSB writers for still writing so we have something new even though CBS is scrub.

* * *

><p>Mick Rawson was genuinely not sure this plan would work. And he hated committing to a high-risk operation where so many civilian lives where jeopardized. If the terrorist refused to take anything from them, they would be immediately shot, and who knows how many stray bullets would take out the other passengers. On the other hand, the jet's rapid speed meant New York City was quickly approaching, and once they got too close, the plane would be shot down, killing <em>everyone<em> regardless.

High-risk, high-reward, zero-survival alternative. Unless the terrorist was lying, the trio had no plans of landing the plane and negotiating. Even then, it was a terrible ploy to lie to your captives and give them the worse outcome. That kind of tactic only gave poor results for those who used it.

If, and that was a big if, he and Gina could get close enough to the lone terrorist in the cabin that the sniper could subdue him, they'd be able to shoot the two in the cockpit. That, of course, was a horribly testy outcome which could easily go wrong. If one of the profilers was shot, it was almost assured they would bleed to death on the plane before help could arrive.

However, as Mick continued to mull the blonde's plan over, he reminded himself there was one alternative – get shot down. If something went wrong with the defending Air Force fighters, they might successfully hit their target, or get rammed by another plane in midair.

Certain death or variable-ridden risk. In the end, it wasn't much of a split decision. They had one shot at retaking the plane, and if he was going to die, he'd rather be killed trying to do something that sitting around waiting for the final moment.

Gina nudged him, dragging him out of his analysis. Her eyes were fixed out the crack they left in the window shade.

Far off in the distance, Mick could see two approaching dark shapes. The Air Force's heavily-armed jets were on the way. They were approaching the safety zone, then, and the terrorists would only have a few more minutes to negotiate, stand down, or land the plane in water before the military used force to end things. The time to deliberate had run out. If they couldn't reach the radio fast enough, whatever efforts they made were pointless, as the plane would be blasted out of the sky regardless.

It wouldn't be the Air Force's fault. Mick knew they had very strict rules on hijacked planes, which was why the plan had to go into action right then and there. He nodded to the blonde that he approved, and she moved to stand up, gaze still locked on the fighters racing to intercept the passenger plane.

* * *

><p>"What do you mean the Air Force wants to strike early? The flight hasn't crossed the safety line yet, give my daughter more time!" General LaSalle roared furiously across the table, his hand smashing down on it to emphasize his demand with a poignant thump.<p>

"There has been no sign the hijackers are going to lose control and they have refused radio contact since redirection. Without opening a channel to negotiate, we have no reason to assume there are any friendlies on the plane left at all. If they wanted hostages, they would reply to our hails and give us terms. You can't even be sure the agents are alive," a cold suit snapped, on the opposite side of the room, standing at the front of his hoard of continually-negative officials.

The whole time, that group had been jumping at the gun to blast the plane out of the sky. Their tolerance for the situation was wearing thin, and Fickler was getting concerned his status as Director of the FBI was about to lose its sway on extending the timeframe before the triggers were pulled. Other, previously-neutral parties, seemed to be starting to agree with the suits on the far side, who outnumbered the three stalwarts of letting Mick and Gina have the entire safety zone boundary to make an attempt.

"You have to understand, sirs, that profilers are looking for clues and analyzing at all times. They must regard the situation from all relevant points of view before taking action. It may be that the time it took to profile the terrorists and formulate a plan was greater than you would like…" Fickler began in his patronizingly calm voice, trying to ease tensions, but a scruffy-looking suit cut him off brashly:

"Expecting us to take your nonsense profiler mumbo-jumbo as the new law again, eh old bat?"

Fickler bristled. He'd never even seen this guy at any relevant party, meeting or gathering for all the key government players, and he was insulting Fickler's trade. Narrowing his eyes and standing up straight, he very slowly worded his reply, emotionless as possible, "Look, Mister Unknown, if you have _problems_ with the way the FBI hunts serial killers and rapists to stop them from devolving into their final endgames, you may take it up with my secretary. As for now, my agents need our full support for as long as it is _safe_ to give them such, rather than your disbelief in methods with high success rates."

Cooper was behind his friends, staying out of the political battle. This was why he ran a Red Cell team – the warring superegos and alpha males made it impossible to actually accomplish anything with good results in a timely manner, and operating outside such triviality suited him much better, as well as his team. Their personalities were all adept at functioning with minimal regulations but still maintaining sharp boundaries, something these gentlemen clearly lacked.

"I'm just saying, they should have moved by now. They're probably dead, or the terrorists are having some fun with the blonde-" the dark-skinned suit from before huffed, smirking at his fellows as they glanced at Gina's file, namely the picture.

LaSalle's trumpeting, profanity-laced shout for them to shut up drowned him out, and the suit was startled into silence, blinking across at the fuming general, who was standing as tall as he could, towering over most of the men next to him.

"You will not talk about my team that way, it's disrespectful and I will get you removed from your position if you try it again," Cooper cut in, before the raging father could _really_ go off on a rampage. Even if his opinion of Gina was that her looks were her best asset, he still wanted no part of considering what terrorists might be doing to her, and especially not from fellow military and government officials who should have been focusing on resolving the situation.

Fickler merely nodded his agreement, and an uneasy silence settled into the room. A sheepish tech, manning the radios with a headset on, turned around from his chair to address the group in their momentary lull, "Uh, sirs, sorry but, the Air Force reports all planes are in place to escort the jet. They're ready when the orders come in."

With everyone's attention back onto the situation, they rushed over to look at the radar showing the passenger aircraft surrounded by four army fighters. It wasn't looking promising for Mick and Gina's chances as the boundary drew ever closer, and their plane kept losing altitude. Whoever was in control couldn't keep it level, and it was possible the jet would nosedive before it came close enough to harm anyone.

The head of the Air Force gave his order: "One warning shot, no damage to the target. Hold all other fire until the safety zone is breached."

* * *

><p>As Gina lifted herself from the seat, a thundering noise ripped across the right side of the plane, and it shuddered from the air displacement, lurching sharply down before wobbling back into a somewhat steady descent.<p>

"They took a warning shot, to show the terrorists those are armed planes out there ready to strike us down," Mick whispered to her, grabbing her arms to support her before staggering out of their row himself.

They stumbled up the aisle, passing curious and frightened passengers, some of whom hissed queries as to their actions while they walked. The profilers had no time to answer questions or explain anything, instead making their agonizingly slow way up to the front, where the terrorist stood. The man was distracted, propping his weight up against the doorway and using his gun to stop from throttling forward if the plane jolted again. He didn't notice them approaching until they were near enough to him they could start talking.

Gina moaned, clutching at her stomach. The Arab was startled and furiously turned to face them, whipping his gun around only to awkwardly sidestep in an effort to regain his balance. His disorientation was clear, and this was the perfect time to strike.

"What you want?" the man yelled, waving the gun in their direction.

"That last lurch made my pregnant wife sick, you don't want her throwing up in here, do you? Let her into the bathroom, she's pregnant!" Mick snapped, shoving Gina towards the bathroom door. She listlessly hit the wall, convincingly looking entirely ill and unhappy, clutching at the plane's sides and whining.

"No, absolutely not!" scowled the terrorist, shoving the gun into Mick's chest, but they were far enough apart the muzzle barely touched him.

"Look man, do you want her getting sick all over the place, and right by you? Let her in!" the Brit tried again, waving his hands madly, which indeed worked to throw the terrorist off. Gina kept groaning, and finally he shouted for her to be quick about it.

She flung the door open, hitting the Arab on the head. He whirled the gun towards her, but was flung back from the surprise of the act, and Mick rushed forward, wrapping his hands around the other man's skull.

With a quick twist, the terrorist collapsed to the ground, his neck snapped. He gave no further protests as Mick hurried to grab the gun and take aim at the cockpit.

"We have about three seconds to take both of them out from when you open the door and when they'll react. I have to shoot to kill without missing and puncturing the plane, and then we have to rush in and take control of the steering before it nosedives with nobody holding on. This is _all_ about timing, efficiency, and speed. One is down, but we cannot screw up eliminating these last two," Mick listed, taking a moment to focus the blonde's attention now that one terrorist was down.

Having not been in a war or on covert operations, she wasn't quite as familiar with such situations as he was and didn't always feel the same sense of urgency and necessity for precision. It was vital that everything be executed as carefully and rapidly as possible to prevent civilian casualty, loss of control, and terrorist resurgence.

"I understand," she shrugged, eyes wide, and for the first time since the terrorists' first motions he really stared into them and noticed how frightened she looked. They were one-third of the way through retaking the plane, but she still feared failure, almost assuredly due to herself. The blonde was short on self-belief and it was showing. There wasn't time to give her the long pep talk she needed so she'd trust in herself, but any doubt on her part could wreck the whole plan.

"Love, I know you think you can't do it, but we have one dead on the ground. We can get these other two. All you need to do is pull the door open as quickly as possible and stand to the side so I can have a clear shot. You will do fine, alright darling?"

She nodded, biting her lower lip. He leaned over to kiss her briefly before pulling back to get into position. Glancing at her once again, she was smiling, albeit a small, weak one, and seemed to want to say something. A quick shake of his head prompted her to spit it out, and the blonde turned her head away, reaching up to fiddle with her necklace before finally saying:

"If we don't survive, I want you to die knowing I really do love you. More than anyone."

* * *

><p>Penelope was mournfully draped over the side of one of Rossi's numerous leather couches, half-listening to Morgan whispering encouraging words to her. There had been no word on Mick and Gina's plane and it was driving her absolutely insane to not know what was happening to them. Worst of all, the tech was completely helpless in the situation, and surrounded by people who similarly didn't handle the inability to influence things well.<p>

She glanced at Beth and Prophet, who were equally irritated at the world and splitting a bottle of champagne, downing it at what the hacker was sure was an unsafe rate. Rossi and Hotch were strategically discussing the situation in the corner, analyzing the odds a retaking of the plane would succeed in various scenarios.

On another couch sat Reid, JJ and Emily, talking uneasily about anything but fellow agents on a hijacked jet. They wanted a distraction from where their minds could go considering everything that might happen. The trio tossed sympathetic smiles at Penelope, who really just wanted to be doing something.

Garcia hoped news would break soon, one way or another. Not knowing was worse than having things resolved.

* * *

><p>Mick blinked. He hadn't been expecting <em>that<em> to come out of the blonde's mouth, and certainly not at a time like this. Nor had he considered she really felt that strongly. She had turned to grab the door by the time he snapped out of his stupor and could think of a reply.

Nothing really seemed to fit the situation, though. This was essentially a last-words effort to give some conclusion, in the relatively good odds they died. Frankly he was touched she would think to tell him how she felt in such a tense situation. Gina glanced back at him, waiting for the signal to breach the cockpit, but he sat there, waiting.

"I… love you too, darling. But this isn't the end. You and I are going to kill these last two and land this bloody plane, and that's that," he nodded firmly, crouching into position to fire.

She smiled, hand wrapping around the handle.

* * *

><p>Will Gina's plan work? Most likely but STAY TUNED ANYWAY! It was originally supposed to be Mick's plan, but I decided to let her come up with it. More of Fickler, Cooper and Gina's dad arguing with the antagonistic officials over things is included as well. Let's see if the plane can stay not-shot for long enough that our favorite couple can succeed.<p>

I start winter quarter tomorrow BUT I get out super early like every day, versus last quarter, so I should hopefully have a lot more time to write. Reviews are loved, and thanks for reading as always (:


End file.
